​Hey there, fellow mamas! Pour yourself a cuppa, because we’re about to get real. My name is Jessica Nevith, and I’m a mom of nine – yes, NINE! – and a mental health coach for youth… well, for you, actually. I work with moms, because let’s face it, if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

​I know the feeling. The one where your kids are screaming, your patience is thinner than tissue paper, and you just want to lock yourself in the pantry with a gallon of ice cream. If you’ve ever yelled, lost your cool, or felt like you were just barely treading water, you are absolutely not alone. For some of us, those moments aren’t just frustrating; they’re terrifying. They’re the moments that lead to self-harm, to finding a bottle to numb the pain, or to the dark whispers that say, “Maybe everyone would be better off if I were gone.” I’ve walked through that darkness. My own journey as a mother spans over 25 years, and believe me, it’s been a wild ride. From the depths of my own past trauma to what I jokingly call my “full-blown soccer momma” phase, God has been crafting a story of grace.

​And that’s what I want to talk about today: the huge difference between parenting from a place of trauma versus parenting from a place of grace – what I call the “Soccer Momma” perspective, but with a deeper, more theological lens.

​When the Milk Spills: Trauma vs. Grace

​Imagine this: Your child, just moments ago peaceful, somehow manages to knock over a full glass of milk. All over your freshly cleaned kitchen floor.

​The “Trauma Parent” Response:

I’ve been there. My heart rate would rocket. My mind would race with, “Oh no, I can’t handle one more thing! This is on purpose! They’re doing this to me!” That overflowing glass of milk wasn’t just a mess; it was a trigger. It brought up feelings of being out of control, overwhelmed, and unseen. In that moment, I wasn’t just reacting to the milk; I was reacting to a lifetime of unmet needs, scarcity, and past pain. For me, that past pain was magnified by the ultimate loss of control: having my home raided by the police and losing custody of some of my children to their father’s parents because I had, at one point, been a better wife than a mother. That kind of grief is a wound that never truly heals. When you’re in that place, every small crisis feels like a catastrophe. Every spilled glass feels like a direct hit, a confirmation that you’re failing, and the pressure can feel so immense that you’ll do anything to make it stop.

​From a spiritual perspective, this place can feel a lot like living under the Law. It’s rigid, unforgiving, and focuses heavily on external compliance. My child’s “failure” (the spilled milk) felt like my failure, and often led to a disproportionate reaction: yelling, shaming, or harsh punishments. There was little room for grace, for the understanding that mistakes happen, or for the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit guiding me to gentleness. My focus was on winning the control battle, often at the expense of connection.

​The “Soccer Momma” (Grace-Fueled) Response:

Now, don’t get me wrong, I still don’t love spilled milk. But through years of mental health work and, more importantly, a deepening walk with God, my internal monologue has changed.

​Now, it sounds more like: “Okay, it’s just milk. No one is hurt. What does my child need from me in this moment?” My first response is to regulate my own breath, find my own calm. I can meet my child’s potential distress with empathy. “Oh dear, that was a big spill! Are you feeling sad/frustrated? It’s okay, let’s grab a towel together.”

​This, my friends, is parenting rooted in Grace. It’s living out Ephesians 4:32: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” This isn’t about ignoring boundaries or letting kids run wild. It’s about recognizing that both I and my child are broken, imperfect beings in need of compassion. It’s about cultivating the fruits of the Spirit – patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control – even when the floor is sticky and chaos reigns.

​The Impossible Choice: Wife vs. Mother

​When my life was shattered by that police raid, I was forced to face a painful reality: I had prioritized my marriage over the safety of my children. The system saw me as complicit, and the result was the ultimate pain of losing them to their grandparents. That kind of self-awareness is brutal, but it’s where the healing begins. I had to forgive myself for a choice I didn’t even realize I was making, a choice rooted in my own past and in the lie that to have a good family, I had to be a perfect wife above all else.

​In that place of deepest pain, I had to find a new kind of grace. Not just for others, but for myself. I had to learn that my worth as a mother was not defined by my legal status, my public image, or even my children’s physical presence. My identity was in Christ, and my journey with my kids was still sacred, even if it looked different than I’d planned. I learned to parent from afar, to pray with a new kind of desperate hope, and to rebuild my relationship with myself so I could eventually rebuild it with them.

​This journey is the heart of what I teach. You can move from a place of deep trauma and grief to a place of purposeful, intentional motherhood. It’s not about being a perfect mom; it’s about being a healed mom.

​The Playground Power Struggle: Legalism vs. Forgiveness

​Let’s try another common scenario: Your child throws a full-blown tantrum because they don’t want to leave the park.

​The “Trauma Parent” Response:

My old self would feel immediate shame and embarrassment. “Everyone is looking! This child is disrespecting me! I have to show them who’s boss right now, or they’ll walk all over me forever!” This again reflects a legalistic mindset – a feeling that I had to control every outcome, prove my authority, and maintain an image of perfect parenting. The battle for control became more important than the child’s actual emotional state. It was a projection of my own fear of being deemed “unfit” again.

​The “Soccer Momma” (Grace-Fueled) Response:

Today, I understand that a tantrum is a big emotion, not an attack on my authority. My internal dialogue shifts: “My child is having a hard time, not giving me a hard time.” I can connect, validate, and then guide. “I know it’s so hard to leave the park when you’re having so much fun. It’s okay to feel sad about it. We do need to go now, and we can come back another day.”

​This approach allows for forgiveness – both for my child’s big feelings and for my own past reactions. It prioritizes the relationship and genuine connection over a rigid adherence to rules. It mirrors God’s patience with us as we learn and grow. It’s less about the outward appearance of a “perfect Christian family” and more about the inward heart of a family filled with love, understanding, and forgiveness.

​My journey from being a screaming, overwhelmed mom to a calmer, more grace-filled “soccer momma” has been 25+ years in the making. It’s not about perfection (because let’s be real, with nine kids, 7 out of 9 listening is a HUGE win in my book!). It’s about progress, about healing, and about allowing God’s grace to transform not just us, but our homes.

​If you’re in that place of feeling overwhelmed, triggered, and losing your patience, know this: God sees you. He loves you. And He’s ready to meet you right where you are. My prayer for you is that you’ll open your heart to His grace, allowing it to soften those edges of trauma and transform your parenting into a reflection of His unconditional love.

​I’m here to share my experiences and techniques. If you’d like to join me on this journey, let’s keep the conversation going!

​What are your thoughts, mamas? Have you experienced a shift from a “trauma” response to a “grace-fueled” one? Share in the comments below!