Just before I turned 26, I miscarried our first child. I let the darkness carry me away for many months.
My husband and I weren’t in a position to pursue pregnancy. And I felt like a failure.
Just before I turned 26, I miscarried our first child. I let the darkness carry me away for many months.
My husband and I weren’t in a position to pursue pregnancy. And I felt like a failure.
When you’re a new mother, it feels like they’ll be little forever. You study their every part. You learn their every mood. You breathe more deeply in their presence.
But then life changes, and you settle into routines. And you begin to understand the difficulty that comes with children growing – evolving into better humans.
And, at some point, you may return to work.
Our family recently moved…twice. And somewhere in between the boxes and whispered curse words, I caught a glimpse of nearly three years of loving sacrifice.
Nursing bras.
My husband had carefully stacked my drawers beside the dresser, and in that moment I felt exposed.
What am I still holding on?
The Gratitude Gospel: Day 8
Tonight a little arm wrapped tightly around my neck in response to boisterous thunder booms.
The Gratitude Gospel: Day 7
“Can we chat?”
It’s become a bedtime tradition in our home. Snuggles and conversation with Mom are how my children end their day.
If you are a mother, you are likely to scroll through your pictures at night – just after you put your kids to bed. And, if you’re anything like me, you don’t just stop at today’s images.
“Well, open it.”
I looked from my boyfriend to my parents. Frankly, I felt framed.
It was Christmas 2007. I wasn’t ready to be married. But there my boyfriend sat expectantly. I had just unwrapped a cherry jewelry box.
No, really, I don’t want to look inside. Please don’t make me look inside.
“Okay,” I resigned. I feigned a smile with the understanding that – if a ring was inside – I would have a choice to make. A public choice. An immediate choice. A forced choice.
The writing on the wall, however, had been revealed to me approximately nine months prior – during my first international service trip.
Nicaragua. Orphans. And a promise to give up sweets for Lent. Continue reading “Proposing Motherhood”
I started a fire…in the kitchen…the day before Thanksgiving. Needless to say, I make a terrible Southern woman.
It all felt like a drug deal gone bad.
There I was, in the dark of night, driving to a gas station to meet someone I barely knew. An exchange was to occur.
Only, this time, I was the supplier.
Motherhood will make you do crazy things.