Mother in Waiting

Mother & child c. 1905

This Mother's Day I received a text from one of my dearest friends who has the habit of telling me what I need to hear before I know I need to hear it. It read:

"To the mama whose already asking, and seeking, and carrying a burden for God's very best for her child, Happy Mother's Day."

My eyes immediately weld up with tears. I breathed in deep and smiled gently as my heart absorbed her words. I sat for a moment pondering why her text meant so much to me, and I concluded that she had called out and recognized a part of my person that is very much alive and active inside of me, but seldom seen by the world. She celebrated the mother in me dyeing to get out, that has already been birthed in anticipation of the child I will nurture. I felt seen and understood. My longings were recognized and who I am and was always meant to be was acknowledged. 

I got to thinking of all the mama's in waiting out there. The one's that have been seeking their faceless child for years, longing for the day they will be united. I imagined the pain this day must bring for so many, and how badly they wanted to be recognized and celebrated with the mother"hood" of the world. 

I blessed them all, and celebrated the mother that lives inside of them, as my friend had me. 

Mother in waiting...I see you. And the God that lives outside of time and space, who knows the tiny face you only imagine, and wrote the story you try and foresee, He see's you too.

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My Journey

I dearly love to write, I always have. I started a blog about 7 months ago entitled Cheers to Health, as a way to showcase my nutritional consulting services and write on topics relating to health and wellness that I have become especially passionate about. It's been an amazing outlet and has got me writing and researching in a way I haven't done in years. Because Cheers to Health will transition into my professional page once I graduate as a holistic nutritionists, I have been intentional about keeping my posts centered around nutrition and natural living, and when it comes to my personal life and anecdotes from my own healing journey, I have remained partly opaque. 

 I created Little Mother to be my creative space, where I can write openly and freely, about things that don't require hours of research and cross referencing, and where I can write without ever caring who reads it, and more importantly, who doesn't read it. 

It's in my heart to document my journey to motherhood. Really my journey began long long ago as a young girl stuffing balloons in my overalls and waddling around the house. It started when my baby sitter told me if I took care of my baby doll well, like a real mother, my doll would come to life. I tended to that baby the best way my 6 year old heart knew how. I rocked her, fed her real food, brushed her hair, and sang her to sleep. Sometimes I would sit and stare at her, eyes wide, refusing to blink, afraid I would miss even the slightest shift in her pink painted lips. There were times I could swear her eyes sparkled with life and her cheeks changed color. 

I have always wanted to be a mother. It's never all I wanted to be, big dreams of education,travel, and a type of professionalism have always placated my soul, and still do. But a mother, a good mother, is something i've always known I would be. 

I've lived a lot of life since those days of tending to my baby doll. Life has been so so good to me. All the journals in the world couldn't contain the beauty and adventure that has marked my days, but Lord knows i've tried.
 Life has also given me some really hard days, experiences I would have never fathomed walking though, and had I known what was to come, I could never be convinced my heart would survive them. 

In one month I would marry the man who has loved me fiercely since the day we first met 10 years ago. Psychology class, senior year. I still remember the first words he ever spoke to me. If it's true that most couples believe there can't possibly be a love greater than the one they share, then it's true for us too. 

Then there was what I call, The Worst Day Ever.

In one weeks time I learned that I had cervical cancer and that the treatments I would need to eradicate it would render my uterus useless.

… How so much can change in a week.

 Just like that something was stolen from me I didn’t know I could lose. Weeks later, I woke up with a body that was different, one that was marked with the wounds of a war I didn’t sign up for. I felt broken, violated, cheated, damaged. I didn’t understand how life could be so cruel.

I grieved. For days and weeks I grieved. My travailing transported me in time, and suddenly I was implanted into the stories of my bible. The one’s that were about me.

I became Sarai slamming my fist in the dust as I lay crouched in the dirt. Her hair became grayer and her womb remained empty. And then I was Hannah being mocked my Psyuhu, and Rebekah as she glared at her sisters rounded stomachs. These women were the only people I knew that had mourned as I was mourning, and I felt connected to them in a way I’m not sure how to express. Their pain was mine and the thousands of years, the land and sea that lie between us vanished. They sat with me in those days, rubbing my back and wiping my tears.

Time has healed but not erased, and as months went by I was able to settle into the new realities in my life.

It's been years now...my body has healed in beautiful and miraculous ways, and Jesus has blessed me with treasures from that trial that have become so much apart of me I can't imagine my life without them. 

The journey continues now, the one to motherhood, and my husband and I are moving forward, toward a place and at a pace determined by the Lord. We are moving together, in step with Him, with faith and peace as our cohorts, knowing the way in which He brings our child fourth will be the greatest adventure of all. The most beautiful story I have yet to tell. 

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