I rocked the cradle for the thousands time that night, my arm jerking to the ground as I fell asleep mid swing, causing me to wake. The previous nights of sleeplessness began to take their toll.

Baby boy began to grunt and fuss, waking me a few minuets later. It was somewhere around 6 am, but the night had been an endless gauntlet of wakefulness and a gassy baby. Crawling out of bed I pulled him next to me, to try to get a few more minuets of sleep.

I had just fallen into glorious deep sleep, when I heard the patter of feet coming down the stairs and the chorus of cheerful “Good morning, mommy’s!”

I wanted to come unglued. My mind began to race over those articles I’ve read about sleep deprivation and effects to the brain. Surely I would loose my mind at this rate, wouldn’t I? I feverishly began to calculate the amount of sleep I had gotten. How many times had he awaken? Was two hours enough to live on for days on end? Could my milk dry up from a depletion of sleep? I better drink extra water today! The thoughts stuck to my mind like the lumpy oatmeal I was stirring.

Crash!

I turn around, flinging oatmeal to the wall.

“Sorry, mommy!” My two year old spilled her purple elderberry juice all over the floor, because she had tripped over the blanket she was pulling around.

“It was just an accident, mommy!” Addie quickly chimed in, trying to play damage control.

I could feel the outburst coming, it was creeping up my throat like bile. I needed a release from the crushing intensity within me, the extreme exhaustion, the crippling overwhelm.

But not this time.

In a moment of strength, I refused to let my children be the casualties of my outbursts in anger at a situation that was not their fault. Again. Instead I croaked out the only thing that I could think to say. The only thing that I knew could help.

“Lord, help me make it through this day!”

It may seem overdramatic, but the intensity of being a stay at home mom (or mom in general) is the most intense, brutal, mentally draining, physically exhausting and spiritually refining task I have ever undertaken. It is a job that stretches endlessly every waking second of every day. The reality of it nearly crippled me when I first became a mom.

No amount of self-care, coffee dates, manicures, lavender baths or (my personal favorite) trips to Homegoods, can make up for the deficit that sacrificial motherhood can cause. You see, I think we’ve been fed a lie and it’s made us believe that a few hours or days or months away from the sacrifice that motherhood causes will somehow “fix us” and make us more suited for the task. There is always going to be a hole in the bottom of that cup, because those things seem to feel good for a short amount of time, but the “filling” that they offer quickly drains when faced with motherhood once again.

The fact of the matter is that while those things are wonderful and good, nothing is a substitute for the infusion of grace that God wants to give us while in the struggle, not away from it.

2 Corinthians 12:9 is a verse we probably know well and seems like a nice, tidy little Christian truth, but it is not merely for our quiet times. It’s a verse we’re meant to go to war with every day when the reality of our own insufficiencies is so very evident. When we don’t think we’re going to make it through the day. When we doubt that this whole “motherhood thing” is even right for us, because there are soooo many other things that would be more personally fulfilling. When the demand is just too much. When culture says choose an easier path.

The beauty of 2 Cor. 12:9 is that it is God directly talking to us through Paul’s own struggle, it isn’t round about, it doesn’t beat around the bush and it’s full of a truth that I need to be reminded of every single day.

 “‘My grace is sufficient for me, for My power is perfected in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest on me.”

Pouring from an empty cup is exactly how we’re called to live. Motherhood, the trials of life, the stress of living in a world full of darkness is supposed to highlight the fact that we cannot do this in our own incredibly menial strength. We cannot be good enough, strong enough, or wise enough without His constant intervention in our weakness.

I hope my children remember Who I turn to when I’m at my weakest point. I hope they remember me calling out to the Lord in those moments even if I scream it, not calling their dad, their grandma, the coffee shop, the drug dealer (jk), etc. I hope they learn to call on the Name of the Lord when they need saving, because He is the only one able. He is the only true fix.

As I sit here in the early morning, holding my little one before my other two awaken, I want you to be encouraged, dear mama. The sacrifices you are making in being present for your children and your family, are the work that God has called you to. It’s a glorious work! A work that is worthy of all your time and every ounce of your strength. He wants to meet you in your place of weakness so that He can give you His strength, His grace and His power.

You are able to pour from an empty cup, because being empty is the only way to be filled— with Him.