🌸 The New Men-o-Pause — What Our Mothers Never Told Us

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NKJV)

Last week, I was at my routine dental appointment with my hygienist, Tinishia.

Now normally, having someone flossing and cleaning your teeth is not when you expect to have a deep conversation about womanhood. But somehow, in between the flossing, rinsing, and me trying to answer questions with dental instruments in my mouth, we started talking about menopause.

And I laughed.

Not because menopause is always funny.

But because sometimes when women finally start comparing notes, you realize that things you thought were happening only to you are apparently part of a club nobody told us we were joining.

Tinishia started sharing some of the symptoms she and her friends had experienced.

Night sweats.

Mood swings.

Changes in sex drive.

Feeling hot for absolutely no reasonable reason.

And, of course, the experience of sitting somewhere perfectly respectable—work, dinner, or even church—when suddenly your body decides:

This would be an excellent time to become a furnace.

One minute you are listening to the sermon.

The next minute you are wondering whether anyone would notice if you quietly removed three layers of clothing.

😂

I have been having more of these conversations with women “of a certain age,” and what surprises me is how many of us experienced things years earlier without realizing they could have been connected to perimenopause or menopause.

Some women started much earlier than they expected.

I did.

Looking back, there were nights when I had to change out of my pajamas twice because I had sweated through them.

Twice.

I did not think, Oh, this must be perimenopause.

I thought something along the lines of:

What in the world is wrong with me?

At another point, I remember feeling emotionally unlike myself and wondering whether I was experiencing some strange, very delayed postpartum-type change.

In hindsight, my body may have been beginning a transition that I did not yet have words for.

Nobody had really explained it to me.

And that is what I keep hearing from other women too.

One part of the conversation kept coming back to me:

Why did so many of us know so little about what could happen to our own bodies?

Some of our mothers told us about periods.

Pregnancy.

Having babies.

Maybe “the change.”

But for many of us, menopause was presented almost like a light switch.

Periods stop.

Menopause begins.

The end.

Except apparently there can be quite a bit happening in the hallway between those two rooms. 😂

Sleep can change.

Energy can change.

Our bodies can change.

Our moods may feel different.

Our temperature-control system can apparently resign without giving two weeks’ notice.

Our interest in intimacy may change.

Our hair, skin, concentration, weight, and even the way we feel in our own bodies can shift.

And because every woman experiences this season differently, it can be easy to wonder:

Is this menopause—or am I slowly turning into a sleep-deprived version of She-Hulk? 😂

But underneath the humor is something I think women need to hear.

Our changing bodies are not betraying us.

They are changing.

And change can be uncomfortable, confusing, frustrating, and sometimes deeply emotional.

There can even be grief in realizing that the body we knew so well for years suddenly feels unfamiliar.

But God is not unfamiliar with us.

The God who created us as little girls, walked with us through young adulthood, motherhood, careers, marriages, disappointments, celebrations, and everything in between is still with us in this season too.

Menopause does not make us less feminine.

Less beautiful.

Less useful.

Less desirable.

Less ourselves.

And it certainly does not make us less loved by God.

Maybe part of entering this season with grace is learning to become curious about our bodies instead of immediately criticizing them.

To ask questions.

To talk to our healthcare providers.

To keep track of what we are experiencing instead of assuming we are imagining it.

To ask the questions our mothers may not have known to ask.

To say to another woman, “Wait—you too?”

And sometimes simply to laugh.

Because there is something healing about discovering that the 2:00 a.m. pajama change, the forgotten word that was absolutely in your brain five seconds ago, or the sudden personal heat wave in the middle of Sabbath service may not mean you are falling apart.

It may mean your body is moving through a season that deserves attention, information, patience—and grace.

And I think we should talk about it more.

Not because menopause needs to become the subject of every conversation. 😂

But because women should not have to quietly wonder what is happening to them while sitting next to three other women who are secretly wondering the exact same thing.

There is wisdom in sharing what we have learned.

There is comfort in hearing, “I experienced that too.”

And there is freedom in realizing that growing older does not mean disappearing.

Maybe this is the new Men-o-Pause.

Not simply a time when our bodies force us to pause—

but a season when we intentionally do it.

Pause long enough to listen to our bodies.

Pause long enough to ask better questions.

Pause long enough to stop comparing ourselves to the woman we were at 30.

Pause long enough to appreciate the woman God has carried into this season.

She has lived.

She has learned.

She has survived things.

She has raised people, loved people, lost people, helped people, prayed for people, worked, served, started over, changed her mind, changed her hair, changed her priorities—and apparently changed her thermostat too. 😂

She deserves some grace.

And perhaps she deserves a fan.

A very good fan.

🌸 The MOMENT

Maybe your body has been doing something lately that made you stop and think:

What exactly is happening here?

Instead of beginning with criticism, begin with curiosity.

What have you noticed?

What questions do you want to ask?

What would it look like to care for the woman you are becoming instead of wishing you still felt exactly like the woman you used to be?

And perhaps call another woman “of a certain age.”

You may discover she has been sitting in church trying not to melt too. 😂

🙏 A Prayer for This Season

Father,

Thank You for being present in every season of our lives—even the ones nobody adequately explained to us.

Help us treat our changing bodies with patience instead of criticism and with wisdom instead of fear.

Give us the courage to ask questions, seek appropriate care, listen to what our bodies may be telling us, and extend grace to ourselves when we do not quite feel like ourselves.

Remind us that our worth has never been determined by our age, our weight, our energy level, our appearance, our fertility, or how comfortable we feel in our skin on any particular day.

Help us see ourselves through Your eyes.

And when the night sweats come, the moods swing, or our internal thermostat decides to do whatever it wants…

Lord, please send wisdom.

And maybe a ceiling fan.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen. 😂

🌸 Carry This With You

Your body may be changing, but your value is not.

You are still growing.

Still becoming.

Still beautiful.

Still useful.

Still deeply loved.

And God is still with you in this season.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

When Motherhood Does Not Come the Way You Imagined

Scripture:

“The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV)

There are some losses that do not come with a funeral.

No obituary.

No gathering of people bringing food.

Sometimes there is only a woman sitting quietly with the knowledge that the child she hoped to hold will not be in her arms.

I know something about that grief.

I had several miscarriages.

Even now, I can remember what it felt like to hope, to imagine, to wonder who that little person might become—and then to have that hope disappear.

Pregnancy loss can be difficult to explain because sometimes the rest of the world moves on much faster than your heart does.

People may not know what to say.

Some say nothing.

Others try to make you feel better.

“At least you can try again.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“Maybe it just was not meant to be.”

Usually people mean well.

But sometimes what a grieving woman needs most is not an explanation.

She needs permission to grieve.

Because you are not only grieving a pregnancy.

You may be grieving the baby you imagined holding.

The name you were considering.

The birthday you calculated.

The little face you wondered about.

The child you had already begun making room for in your heart.

And for some women, the grief becomes even deeper when they realize that biological motherhood may never happen.

That can hurt.

Deeply.

Especially in a world where women are frequently asked:

“When are you going to have a baby?”

“Do you have children?”

“Are you going to try for another one?”

Sometimes people do not realize how much history can be sitting behind a very simple question.

Mother’s Day can hurt.

Pregnancy announcements can hurt.

Baby showers can be both joyful and painful.

You can genuinely celebrate someone else while quietly grieving something you wanted for yourself.

Those feelings can exist in the same heart.

But something else I have learned is that motherhood does not always arrive the way we imagined it would.

For some women, it comes through pregnancy.

For some, through adoption.

For some, fostering.

For others, it may look like helping raise a niece, nephew or grandchild.

Sometimes it is mentoring a young woman who needs someone steady in her life.

Sometimes it is becoming the woman a child calls when she needs advice, prayer, encouragement—or simply a safe place to land.

And sometimes a woman may never have a child of her own at all.

Her life is not therefore empty.

Her womanhood is not incomplete.

And her capacity to nurture, teach, protect, encourage and love is not determined by whether her body was able to give birth.

For me, adoption became part of my story.

But adoption did not erase my miscarriages.

Becoming a mother another way did not mean those babies never mattered.

That distinction is important.

Gratitude does not cancel grief.

And grief does not mean you are ungrateful for the life you have now.

I can be profoundly grateful for the daughter God placed in my life and still acknowledge that there were children I once hoped to carry and raise.

Both are part of my story.

Maybe they are part of yours too.

I wonder how many women we sit beside at church, work with, laugh with, or pass in the grocery store who have quietly carried this kind of grief.

Women who have smiled through baby showers.

Women who have answered uncomfortable questions graciously.

Women who have stood in a Mother’s Day service wondering whether there was a place for them.

Women who have wondered whether something important about being a woman passed them by.

If that is you, I hope you hear this:

Your ability to pour life into someone is bigger than your ability to give birth to someone.

You can pour courage into a child.

You can make someone feel safe.

You can teach.

You can nurture.

You can advocate.

You can listen.

You can show up.

You can love.

And none of that requires us to pretend that the loss did not hurt.

There is room for both.

There is room to say:

I wanted that baby.

I grieved that baby.

I wish my story had been different.

And there is also room to ask:

God, what can love look like through me now?

Not as a replacement.

Not as a way of pretending the loss never happened.

But as another chapter.

Sometimes motherhood comes through the body.

Sometimes it comes through adoption.

Sometimes it comes through an open front door, an extra chair at the table, a phone call from a young person who trusts you, or years of faithfully showing up in someone’s life.

And sometimes the most mothering thing a woman can do is simply become a safe place for another human being.

The path may not look anything like the one you pictured when you were younger.

Mine did not.

But I am learning that a life can hold grief and gratitude, loss and love, what might have been and what God is doing now.

One does not have to erase the other.

Maybe today is simply a MOMENT to remember the women whose motherhood stories came with tears.

And to remind them:

You are seen.
Your losses mattered.
Your love matters.
And your story is still a story worth honoring.

Just wondering…who has mothered, nurtured, guided or poured into your life in a way you will never forget?

Every MOMENT Matters.

Love,
Monica
MOMENTMOMS.org

🌸Make Room for Her

Scripture

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.”
— 1 Thessalonians 5:11

THE MOMENT

Sometimes supporting another woman looks very spiritual.

We pray with her.
We send her a Scripture.
We remind her that God has not forgotten her.

And sometimes it looks like sitting on the floor helping her take braids out of her hair. 😊

It looks like watching her children for a couple of hours because she needs a break.

Dropping off dinner when somebody is sick.

Sitting quietly with a friend whose marriage is falling apart—and resisting the urge to give her a dozen opinions.

Checking on the woman who has lost someone she loves, not only the week of the funeral, but three months later when everyone else has returned to their lives.

It is supporting the woman trying to start something new. Showing up for her event. Sharing her work. Celebrating when something finally goes right.

Sometimes ministry looks a whole lot like friendship.

And sometimes friendship itself becomes ministry—even when we never call it that.

TODAY’S REFLECTION

We hear a lot about community.

But real community requires more than being friendly with the people we already know.

It requires making room.

Room at our tables.
Room in our schedules.
Room in our lives.
Room in our friendship circles.

Most of us already have our people. The friends we call first. The women we meet for lunch. The people whose children know our children. The ones who already know our stories.

There is nothing wrong with having a close circle.

But maybe every now and then, God asks us to pull up another chair and widen it.

And that woman may not look like us, worship like us, live like us, or come from the same background.

She may attend church every week.

She may not attend church at all.

She may be a neighbor you've waved to for three years but never really gotten to know.

A coworker.

Another mom at your child's school.

The woman who always seems to be sitting by herself.

Someone new to the neighborhood.

Or even someone you have known for years but never taken the time to really know.

Invite her to lunch.

Ask her to meet for coffee.

Take a walk.

Plan a girls' night and invite somebody new.

Offer to babysit.

Bring the casserole.

Make the phone call.

Help her take out her braids or wash her hair. 😂

Sit in the hospital waiting room.

Celebrate her good news without comparing it to your own life.

And when life gets hard—divorce, illness, caregiving, financial struggles, grief, problems with our children, or simply one of those seasons when life feels like too much—don't disappear because you don't know what to say.

Sometimes “I'm here” is enough.

A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT

Jesus had a remarkable way of noticing people.

He went to homes.

He ate with people.

He stopped along the road.

He talked with people others overlooked.

He crossed social and cultural boundaries.

And He made room.

Maybe we can do the same.

Not necessarily by starting another program.

Not with another group chat.

Not by collecting more followers or spending more time scrolling through other people's lives.

Maybe it starts by looking up from our phones and noticing the woman who is already right in front of us.

Sometimes building community begins with four simple words:

“Come sit with us.”

MOMENT PRAYER

Lord,

Help us become women who make room for other women.

Teach us to notice the woman who needs encouragement, practical help, friendship, prayer—or simply someone willing to sit beside her.

Help us look beyond our familiar circles and see the people You have placed around us.

Give us generous hearts, open homes, listening ears, and willing hands.

Help us love people without first requiring them to believe what we believe, live as we live, or already belong to our circle.

And when we say, “I'm praying for you,” remind us to also ask,

“Is there something I can do?”

Amen.

Your MOMENT:‍ ‍

What is one simple way another woman has shown up for you when you needed her?

THIS WEEK'S MOMENT CHALLENGE

Think of one woman outside your usual circle.

Not necessarily someone from church.

Maybe she's a neighbor, coworker, another mom, an old friend you've lost touch with, or someone you keep seeing but have never really gotten to know.

Invite her in.

Lunch. Coffee. A walk. Girls' night. A playdate. A phone call. A seat beside you. Or even a simple text:

“Hey, I was thinking about you. How are you—really?”

And if you already know a woman going through a difficult season, do one practical thing for her this week.

Nothing elaborate.

Just show up.

Because sometimes the MOMENT God gives us to encourage another woman may seem ordinary to us...

but it may be exactly the MOMENT she needed.

Pause. Pray. Notice. Make room.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org