If you’re a Type A mother, you probably love order, routines, clean counters, and checking things off a list. You feel calmer when things are organized and predictable. You thrive when you have a plan.
And motherhood… lovingly wrecks that plan.
This season has been teaching me something uncomfortable but freeing: I don’t have to do everything perfectly to be doing something holy.
Some nights, I go to bed with dishes in the sink.
Not because I’m lazy—but because I’m tired.
Because my body needs rest more than my kitchen needs sparkle.
Some nap times, I don’t power through my to-do list. I sit. I breathe. I sleep. I read. I pray. I rest. And I remind myself that rest is not wasted time—it’s necessary fuel.
Some mornings, I’m still in my pajamas well past 10 a.m.
Because the kids needed breakfast, diapers, snuggles, redirection, playtime, naps, and patience more than I needed to “get myself together.”
And that’s okay.
There are messes left out while I sit on the floor playing. Toys scattered because laughter mattered more than tidiness in that moment. The schedule bends—sometimes breaks—because life with little ones is unpredictable. Yes, nap times and feeding schedules are helpful and grounding, but they are tools, not chains.
Motherhood has been teaching me gentleness—especially toward myself.
Grace when the list doesn’t get finished.
Grace when the house doesn’t look the way I want it to.
Grace when I feel behind, overwhelmed, or stretched thin.
Every morning, before my feet even hit the floor, I try to pray the same thing:
Lord, I can’t do today in my own strength. I need Yours.
Because motherhood is not about self-sufficiency—it’s about dependence on God.
Being a mother is an act of servanthood.
And servanthood is worship.
When I wake up for the 2 a.m. feedings.
When I get out of bed for the third time in one night.
When I put my children’s needs before my own comfort.
I remind myself: This is not unseen.
This is honoring God. This is glorifying Him. This is holy work.
I’m learning to find joy in the chaos, not despite it.
I’m also learning not to compare.
Not to other mothers.
Not to other families.
Not to curated moments or highlight reels.
Comparison steals joy—and I don’t want to give it that power.
Daily, I remind myself: I don’t have to be in control. God already is.
And when God is in control, I am freer.
I have more peace.
Because His outcomes are always better than mine.
That includes my children’s safety, their health, their hearts, and even their behavior. I don’t have all the answers—and I don’t need to. There are resources, wisdom, and tools available, and I choose to use them to lower my stress, to feel prepared, and to grow.
That’s the kind of control I can steward well:
Being informed.
Being prepared.
Being open to learning as each new season of motherhood brings new challenges and growth.
Motherhood is a constant renewing of the mind.
That’s why I cling to Scripture daily—letting it wash over my thoughts, my expectations, and my identity.
One of my favorite verses reminds me to focus on what truly matters:
“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8)
Another reminds me that my thoughts don’t have to control me:
“Take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5)
These truths ground me.
They free me.
They remind me that perfection was never the goal—presence was.
To the Type A mama learning to loosen her grip:
You are doing holy work.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to let go.
And you are never doing this alone.





