By Sarah Bragg

Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it. —Proverbs 22:6

I thought having kids was all about them being born and raised. What I didn’t know was how much they were going to raise me. On May 31, 2008, when Sinclair Bragg was born, I, too, was born. I just didn’t know it yet.

She learned to walk. So did I—I learned to walk into who I really am.

She learned to talk. So did I—I learned to speak differently to myself.

She learned to face her fear of the dark. So did I—I learned to face the fear of failure.

So much of who I am today is because of Sinclair and Rory, the girls I birthed. But it hasn’t been easy. Raising kids is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never wanted to quit something more in my life. This doesn’t mean I don’t love them. It just means raising kids is hard—harder than I’d ever imagined.

Not long ago, I was listening to one of my favorite John Mayer albums, and his song “Born and Raised” really resonated with me. He talks about how life is hard, and how it’s hard to fake who you really are. Through it all, at the end of the day, you’ll be born and raised.

I understand what Mayer means when he sings about how it’s hard to fake who you are. Nothing revealed the need for me to face who I was, who I pretended to be, and who I wanted to be more than having kids. Raising kids has been the greatest catalyst for growth in me. I am a different person now than before I became a mother. It wasn’t a painless change, but while I don’t like going through hard things, I wouldn’t change who I’ve become.

Raising myself has taken time. It’s taken hardship. It’s taken wrestling with the vulnerability and uncertainty of it all. But it’s worth it. And for that reason, I am forever grateful to the two girls who have helped raise me.

Maybe you also feel like you have been born and raised in a way you weren’t expecting. Maybe you feel like me—born into something uncertain, unknown, and sometimes unpleasant. Being born into something often feels unpleasant. As beautiful as a physical birth is, it’s generally painful and even scary (for both mother and child).

When Sinclair was born, I remember reading all. the. books. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know all there was to know about birth plans, schedules, nursing, milestones, and baby food. Knowledge was like a security blanket that would keep me safe as I walked into this unknown territory. I had always been a good student who believed I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. I thought if I studied child-rearing the way I’d studied the piano, I would be just fine. I know—famous last words, right?

Well, even though I acquired the knowledge, it still turned out to be far harder than I’d imagined. I still felt lost. It also revealed something surprising about me—I wasn’t a natural at this mothering thing. I still had a lot to learn, most of which couldn’t be found in a book. Much of what I needed to learn was going to come through showing up, through being born into this uncertain and unfamiliar place and allowing these circumstances and people to raise me to be who I am supposed to be.

But hear me on this: I fought the growing-up process. I didn’t start working on raising myself until Sinclair was nearly five and my second daughter, Rory, was a preschooler. Until that point, I still believed if I just read more or prayed for my kids to change, things would be better. I prayed and prayed, but my kids didn’t change. They still pushed all my buttons. They still made messes everywhere. And I still felt unhappy and discontented.

I wish I could say there was a catalyst, a turning point, that incited the change in me. But I can’t pinpoint one. Instead, I think I began to change when I started being honest with myself. I started journaling again, something I hadn’t done since I was a young girl. (Someone will likely need to burn these journals when I die.) I started processing my thoughts and feelings in a very honest way. I started working on who I was. I started seeing that the things I wanted for my daughters were the same things I wanted for myself.

I wanted them to be free to be who they are. Me too.

I wanted them to feel loved no matter what. Me too.

I wanted them to feel accepted. Me too.

I wanted them to know they are enough exactly as they are. Me too.

I wanted them to know they are strong and brave. Me too.

The question was, how could I instill these truths in my girls if I didn’t believe them for myself? I needed to experience a sort of rebirth. Not the kind I was taught about in Sunday school, but the kind that required me to embody the lessons I had heard all my life, the kind that required me to live into those lessons as a mother. If I wanted my girls to believe all of these big ideas, I needed to become the sort of woman who lived out of my own belief in them.

I had to acknowledge my inclinations toward perfectionism, fear, shame, and inauthenticity. I had to confront some hard things about myself and be willing to push through them. Raising myself was going to require change. I would need to be brave enough to dare to imagine a different story.

Rachel Macy Stafford writes in her book Live Love Now, “Perfect parenting is not required to raise resilient, compassionate, and capable adults. Better off are the kids whose parents are willing to rewrite their job description and admit they are up for the task of learning, discovering, and growing right alongside their children.” That’s exactly what A Mother’s Guide to Raising Herself is about. It’s about rewriting the story. It’s about sharing what I’ve learned through parenting that has in turn raised me.

Parenting forced me to take a hard look at what I believed about my life, my faith, and myself to see what is true. If something is true for my daughters, then it is true for me.

Taken from A Mother’s Guide to Raising Herself: What Parenting Taught Me About Life, Faith, and Myself by Sarah Bragg. Click here to learn more about this book.

For any mom who has ever felt inadequate, overwhelmed, or guilty in trying to balance it all, popular podcaster Sarah Bragg offers brilliant clarity and respite in this friendly manual for becoming your most authentic self, instead of just surviving motherhood.

Nothing will make you grow up faster than trying to raise a kid. This is what popular podcast host and mom Sarah Bragg explores so beautifully as she encourages and equips moms who are discovering all the ways they still need to grow.

It’s easy to lose our sense of self in the all-consuming process of raising our children, but Sarah reminds us that the best gift we can bring to our kids is our true, authentic selves. Through vulnerable and relatable stories, no-nonsense wisdom, and a compassionate perspective for all the joys and challenges of motherhood, Sarah provides shame-free practical help to surviving right where you are in life, in relationships, in work, and in faith.

This guidebook to health and sanity for the wilderness of parenting will help you:

• Give yourself permission and find the courage to show up as yourself
• Wrestle with how purpose, work, and calling fit together
• Notice and celebrate the good that’s happening right around you
• Remember your worth is not in your kids or your role as a parent but in something far more lasting

Find solidarity, understanding, and helpful encouragement to embrace all that motherhood is and remember who you truly are. Because you matter, and raising great kids starts with raising yourself well.

Sarah Bragg is the host of the podcast Surviving Sarah. Along with being a master at brewing coffee and a champion of cheering for others, she is also a mother of two girls and a wife to Scott. She and her family reside in Tennessee. You can find more from Sarah at SarahBragg.com and @sarahwbragg.