Diapers, Deadlines, and Exhaustion: Three Saints Who Were Mothers

At the risk of sounding boxed-in, I’m going to say it: ever since I held my first doll, bathed her, and rocked her to sleep, I knew that I wanted to be a mother.

That certainty never wavered.
Not in high school, not in college, not in my creative and challenging workplace.
But nothing fully prepares you for motherhood: no time for yourself, an endless stream of work, the testing of every ounce of your patience.

In my early years as a mum, I devoured books and articles on parenting. But it wasn’t until I met Zélie Martin that I began to find my way.

Her story led me to women like Monica of Hippo and Margaret of Cortana — mothers who had walked the path to sainthood in the middle of imperfect family life. Their lives reminded me that motherhood is a calling, and that faith can grow in the midst of deadlines, dishes, tantrums, and tears.

Saint Zélie Martin: Holiness in the Kitchen & the Workshop

I feel like I could very well be the author of those words. But I’m not. Saint Zélie Martin is.

Married to Saint Louis Martin, Zélie was an energetic wife, mother, and businesswoman who knew what it felt like to be pulled in a hundred different directions at once.

Skilled at weaving delicate Alençon lace, Zélie ran a flourishing business and took great pride in her work. Yet, like most moms, her heart was never far from her home and children.

She woke early, worked long hours, juggled multiple deadlines, and had an overflowing to-do list. Amid all this, she tended diligently to her children’s hearts, instilling in them a faith whose roots ran deep.

At the end of the day, she was often exhausted. She describes her struggles in the many letters she wrote to her brother, children, and husband.

Reading her letters felt strangely familiar to me. Her hopes, worries, and weariness are much like mine. Yet, in the midst of the chaos and exhaustion, Zélie’s heart remained fixed on eternity: “I feel the need of quiet reflection to think of salvation,” she wrote.

Holiness for her was found in the everyday, a philosophy that her daughter Saint Thérèse espoused as well. “It is necessary,” she wrote in one of her letters, “that the heroic becomes daily and that the daily becomes heroic.”

Her words encourage me, for she lived the simple, busy life of a working mother. Yet, she never lost sight of heaven, not when the days were long and exhausting, not when the grief of losing four young children overwhelmed her, and not even when illlness slowly drained her life.

Her strength, industriousness, and holiness are all qualities I aspire to.
With her, I find myself praying, “I want to become a saint; it will not be easy at all… I should have started sooner, while it was not so difficult; but in any case ‘better late than never’.”

Saint Monica of Hippo: A Mother Who Refused to Stop Praying

Can you imagine chasing your adult child from city to city?
That’s exactly what Saint Monica did!

Knowing that her son Augustine had strayed from the faith she had taught him, she followed him first to Rome and then to Milan. But despite her efforts, Augustine continued to chase his own pleasures and drift far from God.

If you’ve ever had a child who has turned away from the truth for even a short while, you understand something of Monica’s pain. Monica was heartbroken but not defeated.

She continued speaking to him about God but did so patiently, prayerfully waiting for the right moment to speak. (How different my conversations with my own children might be if I prayed before speaking, like Monica did.)

When Augustine continued to pursue his own ambitions despite all this, Monica did not give up.

She did what she is now remembered for — she prayed without ceasing. Through disappointment after disappointment, Monica did not stop praying. Not even as years passed and nothing seemed to change.

After seventeen long years, Augustine turned back to God. Monica’s prayers had prevailed.

As a mother, I find Monica’s persistence deeply inspiring. I can do my best to teach, correct, and guide my children but I cannot force their hearts to love God. I can sow the seeds. I can water the plant. But it is only God who makes the plant grow (see 1 Corinthians 3:6).

There is comfort in knowing that my role is not to change hearts but to tend to them.
To love my children, to teach them, to pray for them faithfully, and to never give up on them.
Even on days when all I want to do is dish out the silent treatment.

Saint Margaret of Cortana: Hope for Imperfect Moms

One of the hardest parts of being a mum is beginning again.

Beginning again after I’ve lashed out in impatience or refused to forgive freely. How do I return to the daily task of mothering when the weight of my own mistakes is too much to bear?

It is at times like these that Saint Margaret of Cortana brings me comfort.

Neglected by her father and rejected by her stepmother, Margaret longed for love. At seventeen, she ran away with a nobleman and lived with him for nine years, bearing him a son and building a life far away from God.

But her life was shattered suddenly when the man she loved was murdered. Margaret was left alone, a single mother, with nothing to fall back on, except guilt, shame, and grief.

It was here in the wreckage of her life that God met her.

Maragret turned back to God with complete repentance and humility. At times, the weight of her past overwhelmed her. But with the help of Franciscan friars, she kept praying for the strength to begin anew.

Slowly, she rebuilt her life around the love of God and caring for the poor, choosing repentance over despair, courage over shame.

The life of this wounded, imperfect mother shows me that no matter how many times I fail, God’s grace can help me begin again. I need that reminder especially on days when I am painfully aware of my shortcomings as a mother. When the guilt of having spoken harsh words crushes me.

At moments like these, Margaret of Cortana teaches me that sanctity does not begin with perfection.
It begins with surrender.

Zélie, Monica, and Margaret were mothers long before they became saints. Their lives remind me that motherhood takes many forms: exhaustion, hope, hurt, perseverance.

And yet, God is right in the middle of it all. In the early mornings and the late nights, the tender moments and the shouting matches, the desperate prayers and the repentant heart.

In weakness, failure, and imperfection, He continues forming our hearts in holiness, if we let Him. Because His grace is not just for the strong and steady moms but also for the ones who fall, repent, and begin again.

Happy Mother’s Day!