“Are they all yours?”

I’m usually asked this innocent question at least once while out in public with my four children. It isn’t because four is a ridiculous amount of children. It *hopefully* isn’t due to a perception that I can’t handle all of my children. I’d love to believe that it’s simply because I look far too young to have four children–insert hysterical laughter from at least 2 of my said children–but, I digress.  What generally sparks the question is that my oldest child is six-foot-one with a mustache, and my youngest child is being pushed in a stroller, happily sucking on his bink. The juxtaposition tends to cause a head or two to turn. To the absolute horror of my daughter, her older brother was once mistaken as her father by an unsuspecting child at the park.  She can laugh about it now and it’s a story I love to tell because it perfectly illustrates the novelty of our family.

I don’t mind at all when strangers stop to chat about the size of my family and question the obvious gap in their ages. I proudly proclaim that they are 16, 12, almost 10, and 3. No, you didn’t mishear me, I did say the youngest is three. Yes, they’re all from the same marriage, we’re about to celebrate our 18th anniversary. No, he was not a surprise. That sweet boy was fervently prayed for and oftentimes I still can’t believe that God saw fit to bless us with another child. Yes, people really do ask that last question. But my favorite question of all goes something like this: did you know what you were getting into?? And the answer is simple.

Absolutely flipping not.

It goes without saying that by the time you’re on baby number four, you’ve learned a thing or two along the way. There is beauty in the steadfastness of seasoned parenthood. I know they’ll eventually sleep through the night, sit through a meal at the table, and tie their own shoes. I parent with a different kind of calm that completely eluded me as a first time mom. The assurance that “this too shall pass” allows space for clarity and a gentleness with myself that took some years, (and kids), to hone. But let me tell you, nothing can make you question how seasoned you truly are when you’re ushering a child into adulthood while simultaneously raising a toddler into a preschooler.

Honestly, the best way I can describe it is like whiplash to my mind and my soul. I whisper constant prayers of “sustain me Heavenly Father” as I play a game of mental and emotional gymnastics for which I was definitely not prepared. I look at my sons and realize that every day feels like a dance between holding one close while letting the other go. The emotional effect is the same–both heartache and pride. A bittersweetness woven intimately into the fabric of motherhood. The magnitude and depth of “both and” in my daily life is not the portion I was prepared to receive alongside the blessing of another child.

I am both overjoyed and overwhelmed.

I both yearn for more time with my kids and am elated to see them flourish in their independence.

I both delight in seeing the fruits of my labor and secretly worry that I haven’t done enough.

I am both excited to watch my children grow and ache to cradle their tiny bodies once more.

That once little boy who now towers over the top of me standing next to his toddler brother is a visual display that living in a season of both and can be absolutely breathtaking. It is a constant reminder of the beautiful anomaly of motherhood. We pour ourselves completely into these little people that we love more than we can put into words, simply so that they can learn how to live without us. But what a blessing it is to battle the both and when it provides the gift of being the one to heal their hurts, hold their secrets, and prayerfully disciple their hearts.

So no—I had no idea what I was getting into when I dove into motherhood again after a six-and-a-half year break. I had no concept of the ways that it would bend me and break me, mold me into the mother and woman I am today, and force me to lean into my faith. I wasn’t prepared for the gut-punch of emotion that would come alongside watching my three older children fall in love with their new baby brother, or the height to which my love for my husband would grow watching him be a father for the fourth time. What an honor and privilege to sit in the uncertainty and discomfort of both and in order to bear witness to the goodness of God in my life and the lives of my family.

If you are in a season of walking though both and in your own life, I challenge you to embrace it. Sit with it. Let it reveal to you the ways in which God is moving and working in your life. Often I spend far too long focused on the ways life can be hard, and not nearly long enough focused on the ways that God uses those moments to sanctify me, drawing me closer to Him. The more I fix my eyes on Him, the easier it is to wade through the both and.

Thank you, Jesus, for the opportunity to love so deeply that it hurts to both hold on and let go. Thank you for the gift of motherhood. I marvel at the abundant blessings you’ve bestowed on my life. I humbly ask that you would be near to the woman reading this. May she feel your comfort and perfect peace. Sustain her, Father, and help her to keep her eyes focused on you. I praise you Lord God for your mercy and grace. Amen.