Welcome to Mainly Motherhood! My name is Kayla Flewelling and I am the author and facilitator of this blog. I’m the mother to a beautiful blue-eyed daughter and the blessed wife to a tall and handsome carpenter. After receiving my Bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education with a certification in teaching English as a Second language, I knew that I loved working with children. I adored watching them grow and progress and get excited about learning. I taught in several classrooms during internships, but before I could enter into a classroom of my own, I gave birth to my baby, and knew that I needed to stay at home with her just as much as she needed it.
I used to be fiercely independent. When I was an infant, my exhausted, first-time father held me on his chest as he slept away his work-induced fatigue in the family rocking chair. Instead of settling in against his warm chest, I became the object of every pediatrician’s warnings and the poster child of a new mother’s fears.
I crawled off of my father’s chest, out the front door, and into the road.
Thankfully there were no cars barreling down towards my tiny body, no creeps on the sidewalk, and no one to call child protective services, and my father awoke in a panic to rush to my rescue before anything tragic could take place.
The same independence that sent me crawling into that busy road as a baby had me raising an eyebrow at new mothers’ cries for help as an adult. I watched them stumble into mommy support groups and carry their worried looks into doctor’s offices and I vowed to be different. My mind was set: I would handle this new parenting gig myself. I had taken care of six younger siblings and managed classrooms of children who resembled pinballs at times. I could do this. I carried around my resolve like a birth plan. My husband would never change a diaper, I would never visit a mommy forum, and I would surely never ask for help.
My pride was my pacifier and I sucked on it like a candy, finding comfort in my independence and my capability.
Then I gave birth to my daughter, and with her, a new sense of realism and dependence. I had stumbled onto the busy road of parenthood and the world felt big and confusing again. I was capable but I was weary and I was overwhelmed. And while my husband has still never changed a diaper and I am still confident in myself as a mother, God has begun to wean me of my pride and I have sacrificed the independence that I once cherished so deeply and have shamelessly asked for help. I have texted my mother-in-law at one in the morning with tears in my eyes, knowing that she would hold my daughter the next day, giving me a few hours to rest. I have accepted rides from friends to the doctor’s office and hovered over mommy forums like a hawk, waiting to swoop in and pick out one empathetic story from the murky waters. I have asked the question, “Is this normal?” too many times to keep track.
You’ve heard that it takes a village to raise a child.
I used to turn up my nose at this quote that mothers brandished as their mantra. But then I became a mom to a little bundle of helplessness, and I knew that I didn’t want to do motherhood alone.
While the village can easily exist as a helpful mother who does your dishes while you guzzle down a coffee and try to keep your baby at the breast, or a husband who buckles your baby into the carseat because you don’t want to be the bad guy, there’s a bigger village available to you now than there once was. Let me introduce you to our global village.
Here, you can meet mamas from across the world who have been through it all. Here you can find comfort and support as you read stories of mothers who have experienced breastfeeding woes and who have battled postpartum depression. You can read stories about home business start-ups and funny labors and deliveries.
Here, you don’t have to be alone.