It’s an incredible honor to introduce you to Gloria who’s sharing her unique journey to and through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Gloria lives in Taiwan and is a mom of four boys. Her youngest son, Russell, has Down syndrome. This is the first time Gloria is publicly writing the story of Russell’s birth and how God prepared their family for a child with Down syndrome. When I first read this post, I got goose bumps. And I’ve cried both times I’ve watched the video of Gloria and Russell at the end. Not only do I adore children with Down syndrome, but I adore Gloria’s heart. What a beautiful woman and mama she is. I’ve never met Gloria, and I’d never engaged with her online prior to this series, but I’m convinced our paths were destined to cross. Enjoy, friends. This is one special mama. 

“Today is the last day before we know for sure if our son has Down syndrome.” 

This was the opening line of my journal entry on September 20, 2013. This was the journal entry where I was going to pour my heart out about all that God had done in the previous nine days of waiting. I intentionally did not journal during those ten days, because I wanted to be focused on intimacy with God alone. I had begged God to let those ten days be a time of true and raw emotion. I wanted to experience any grief, any joy, any pain. God answered this prayer and allowed me to feel emotion in ways that would leave me feeling exposed and protected all at the same time. God knew I needed this. He had proven Himself to be infinitely more gentle and tender than I could have ever imagined prior to walking this journey of Russell. God showed me treasures about Himself that I had not yet experienced in my walk with Him. He showed me that there is no Scripture, no promise, no miracle that is unattainable for me as His child. God, in His great love and for His glory, started preparing our hearts for the arrival of our fourth son, Russell, long before I was even pregnant with him.

Back in the summer of 2012, I read a blog post that changed my life and my heart forever, If Not Us…Then Who? This is the post that God used to open my eyes. The scales fell off – hard. And so began my unexpected heart’s journey to orphans with special needs, specifically those who have Down syndrome. I was wrecked for good after reading that gut-wrenching post. That summer, God continued to pummel (destroy, really) my heart for children with Down syndrome. Clive and I saw children and adults with Down syndrome everywhere in America that summer. Water parks, baseball games, Sunday school, concerts. It was almost becoming comical. I journaled on June 11, 2012: “So, it’s been a little weird…everything I have heard, seen, and come across. Maybe God is just softening our hearts to Down syndrome and special needs…who knows. I no longer want to say, ‘I could never adopt a special needs child.’ I now want to say, ‘Lord we want whatever you have for our family, and we trust that you will teach us, guide us, and take care of us.’” Little did we know what God was up to and how much He was going to enrich our lives.

In 2012, during my pregnancy with Russell, God started giving me glimpses and stirrings of what He might be preparing our hearts for. One of the greatest miracles was that when I was just six weeks pregnant with Russell, Clive spoke in high school chapel and publicly surrendered his heart about special needs adoption to God. Neither of us would have imagined that, inside of me, God was already growing our own precious son with Down syndrome.

On April 16, 2013, I wrote: “This past Sunday, my friend said that she wanted to remind me that even though this is a fourth boy, this a NEW season, and that this boy is so special. It brought tears to my eyes as she prayed for me. It still freaks me out a little bit though, the urgency with which she has been praying for me and this baby, and the “new” thing….just still wondering about Down syndrome.”

That same friend emailed later with “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:18-19

On April 18, 2013, I journaled: “Clive and I keep talking about how we can’t help but wonder about this child having Down syndrome with all that God has done, the prayers, etc. I am even hesitant to journal about it, because I don’t want to imagine what God is up to. His ways are so far above mine. But I just know that if this baby is healthy or not, it feels like God is preparing us….for what, I don’t know. Again, it’s hard for me to write about. I have chills as I write it. I told Clive I don’t EXPECT our child to have Down syndrome, but it’s more that it wouldn’t come as a shock if he did. And I will be a little surprised if he doesn’t? I know that sounds crazy. I am just amazed at the ways that God has shown us His love for us this year. He keeps blowing me away and I am so thankful it never gets old to Him.”

Prior to Russell’s birth, we had two possible names. One was for our son if he didn’t have Down syndrome. My husband picked that name, and it is the name he ended up with – Russell. The other name was the name we would give him if he had Down syndrome. Russell was born on September 5, 2013. You might have heard my screams of pain all the way in America when he was coming. The symbolism of the brief labor (only 5 hours) and intense pain, followed by sheer joy and contentment is not lost on me. It mirrors what I have experienced in my journey of Russell after he was born. When Russell came into the world, he did not look like he had Down syndrome. I looked at Clive in the recovery room and said, “He doesn’t have Down syndrome.” Clive said, “Oh Fred” (that’s my nickname) and smiled at me, like he was saying, “Of course he doesn’t.” I asked three doctors in the next couple of days if they were sure he didn’t have Down syndrome. They would all do a quick top-to-toe scan with their eyes, look at the palms of his hands, look at his eyes and ears, and confidently assure me that he did not have Down syndrome. So, after 24 hours of waiting to decide on his name, we named him Russell. Because our son did not have Down syndrome.

After we took him home, there was still a gnawing in our hearts. He didn’t latch on for breastfeeding well. He had extremely low muscle tone. He never cried. After having three other children, I knew that was out of the ordinary! And the more he was opening his eyes, the more we were noticing the almond shape that was just a little more upturned than his Asian-American brothers. One day, I was holding him on my lap and looking up symptoms of Down syndrome. While reading, I didn’t feel overly concerned. Then I got to the last sign. A sandal gap. I had never heard of it. So, I looked it up. A larger than normal gap between the first and second toes. I unsnapped his sleeper and held his feet up. And my world stopped. He had it. On both feet. Oh. My. Word. My son has Down syndrome. This IS what God was preparing us for. He WAS speaking to us! It felt surreal.

Ten days after Russell was born, we headed to the hospital for the test results. We had prayed together and read Scripture together before leaving the house. We were nervous. But yet, we also were about 95% sure. I cried the whole way to the hospital. This was our last day to hold Russell as our son without Down syndrome. I didn’t want to step over the fragile boundary of time into knowing our Russell with Down syndrome. I cried the whole way home from the hospital too. But they were tears of complete awe and praise of God. I remember how when I was pregnant, I told Clive that if we found out our son had Down syndrome, my awe of God and all that He had done for us would overshadow any other emotion I would have. And I felt that so much as we were driving home together. Clive felt the same way too. God had given me this verse on September 16th while we waited for Russell’s test results: “Give thanks to the Lord, call on His Name; make known among the nations what He has done. Sing to Him, sing praise to Him, tell of all His wonderful acts. Glory in His Name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always. Remember the works He has done, His miracles…” I Chronicles 16:8-12. I knew this this verse was going to be our story and I couldn’t wait to make His name known.

Russell was no less perfect with Down syndrome. He was even more breathtaking actually. And our love for him felt tender and fierce at the same time. We had no context for who Russell with Down syndrome was going to be. But then he smiled for the first time. And laughed for the first time. And those waves of suffocation turned into breaths of fresh air and rejoicing. We can’t believe he is ours. He brings us pure joy—our whole family. His brothers adore him and he adores them. God adores Him.

On my balcony reading my Bible one day soon after finding out Russell had Down syndrome, I read Isaiah 41:20: “so that people may see and know, may consider and understand, that the hand of the Lord has done this, that the Holy One of Israel has created it.” Another verse He blew me away with was Isaiah 42:9: “See, the former things have taken place, and new things I declare; before they spring into being I announce them to you.” God had prepared our hearts! It seemed too good to be true. And I told Clive that I felt like God’s favorite. I truly did. And I realized that that’s how God WANTS me to feel! You are God’s favorite too, you know? Know that whatever He is doing in your life, whatever He is preparing you for – nothing is wasted. None of it. Russell is our constant reminder of God’s goodness, of God’s love, of God’s gentle voice. Russell has changed our lives forever. For the much, much better. Truly, there are no words. There is SO much more to this story, but those stories will have to wait for another time. For now, be encouraged by God’s goodness, His faithfulness, and His promise to speak to us.

Our Facebook post on September 29, 2013, said: “Love, joy, and sorrow meet as we let family and friends know that our son, Russell, was born with Down syndrome. We are so in love with him and in awe of God, who miraculously, gently, and lovingly prepared our hearts and our family for Russell.”

“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.”  Isaiah 42:16

“Nothing exceeds thy power, nothing is too great for thee to do, nothing too good for thee to give. I ask great things of a great God.” ~The Valley of Vision

Gloria

Gloria Hsu is married to her middle school sweetheart who she met at an international school in Taiwan. She was a family nurse practitioner while living in the U.S. She and her husband moved back to Taiwan five years ago, where her husband is a high school guidance counselor at the school they grew up at, and Gloria is the co-founder and director of Pregnancy Support Center (PSC) in Taichung. Taiwan has one of the highest abortion rates in the world, and is a nation in great need of healing and freedom. Gloria loves being a mother to four boys, all of whom God has gifted uniquely. Her fourth son has Down syndrome. It is no coincidence that God gave them a child with Down syndrome in a country where over 95% of babies with Down syndrome are aborted. Gloria’s passion is hearing God speak and seeing Him move in her own life and in the lives of others. You can join her Facebook page at Unseen to read and share everyday stories of God speaking and moving. Visit her PSC website at pregnancysupport.tw (currently under construction) and PSC Facebook page. You can also visit her blog that will be up and running soon with more about the journey of Russell, PSC and adoption at lifeisamist.wordpress.com.

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Emily who’s sharing her unique journey to and through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Emily is mom to a sweet one-year-old girl. She’s a single mom. She’s a mom who lives with mental illness. She’s a mom who’s been through paternity testing. She’s a mom who understands that little girls and “big girls” need fathers and father figures. She’s a mom who recognizes her weaknesses and applies her strengths. She’s a mom who experiences challenges and joys like any other mother. I’m proud of her for her honesty, her bravery, her willingness to share her real-life story with us today. Please extend a warm welcome to Emily.

There was a good chance I could be pregnant, so I wanted to take an at home pregnancy test. My friend and I went to the Dollar Store and purchased a test. She stayed with me for most of that day, as the results were positive. The next day, I went in to see my doctor and a positive test was confirmed. I had been living with my boyfriend, but knew there was a chance the baby could be someone else’s. Excited and hopeful that the baby was my boyfriend’s, I quickly called him at his place of work to relay the news.

My water had not broken, so I scheduled a day to be admitted into the birthing unit to be induced on a Monday. After 42 weeks of pregnancy, Leona Marie was born on Wednesday, February 5, 2014, at 2:00 p.m. We were not discharged until Friday of that week.

After doing a paternity swab, we found out that my boyfriend was not my daughter’s biological father. We have managed to stay together regardless of that fact. I do not have contact, nor receive any support from my daughter’s biological father. To me, being a family does not mean it has to be by blood. It’s those who support one another, care for each other, and stick by one another that have the greatest meaning. I need someone in my life who loves me for who I am and cares for me. Leona is part of me, therefore she is part of my package deal. Having a man that is an involved dad is really important and necessary, someone who wants to enjoy the things I like to do from time to time, and be a father figure to my little girl.

I love being a mom and I love my daughter whole-heartedly. Motherhood has made a great impact on my life and overall well-being. It is rewarding for me to watch Leona grow. I am blessed to have my family, and to have my dad to take care of Leona while I work throughout the week is an even greater blessing to me.

But being a single mom and living with mental illness has also been a struggle at times. I am currently living with my boyfriend who lives within a mile of my parent’s house. To take care of myself and another human being is a lot of work. With various appointments, my work schedule, and activities I am involved in, it can be quite a load at times. Although, support from family and friends and people in the community is a great thing for me and Leona. I have come to realize that I am growing as a person just as Leona is growing up as well. Being her mommy is rewarding to me. I have a lot of fun when I am with her, and I love with an open heart.

 

I would like to thank my dad, mother, brother, sister, and mostly God for all that I have been given. I really feel like there is a purpose for me in this world, and that I have a beautiful gift by being a mother to my daughter. After all, without love where would we be?

I would like to share this quote…

“A love of life does not mean a mom who is always happy, it means a mom who strives towards experiencing the exquisite beauty of a song, the warmth of a smile from a loved one or stranger on the street, the gift of a nourishing meal, or the magic of a sunrise.”

I would also like to share a prayer I say to my daughter at night…

“May angels guard you through the night and keep you safe ’til morning light.”

Emily

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Lissa who’s sharing her unique journey through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Lissa and her husband left the comfort and familiarity of their home in Vermont for a life of adventure and uncertainty in New Zealand. Did I mention that they made the move shortly after their son turned one? Did I mention that they knew no one in New Zealand when they moved there? Lissa is brave, delightful, thoughtful, intelligent and insightful. We’ve developed a lovely friendship online, and today, it’s an honor to share her adventures in mothering abroad. Enjoy, friends! Lissa’s story is equal parts interesting, exhilarating and inspiring.

Two years ago, my husband and I decided to leave our home in Vermont for a life-changing adventure. My husband, who was self-employed, had a job offer in New Zealand and the timing seemed perfect… except, we had just had a baby.

Our son was born in 2012 and at that time, I was going back to work and graduate school, while attempting to figure out the new mama thing. Trying to balance it all was not working and I didn’t have the energy to try to fake it. So we decided New Zealand was the place for both of us to achieve our dreams— for him to work for a dream company and for me to be able to stay at home with our son while focusing on my writing.

Six weeks after my husband accepted the job, not just our house was sold, but also our two cars and several of our belongings. The rest was tightly packed into a shipping container for the three-month sail down under. For the next few months, everything we needed was found in three large suitcases. Hard, yet through it all I was confident about this next step in life.

Hauling our bags, a stroller, a pack and play, a car seat, a guitar, a dog crate, and a dog around the airport and later, the train stations, our adventure had been birthed. On the 12-hour flight to New Zealand from Los Angeles, our son who had just turned one, slept most of the way (I would later discover that traveling that far with a two-year-old is much more difficult).

Looking back on that moment, there was a tremendous amount of uncertainty surrounding the transition…but I didn’t notice. Always a mama first, I was too focused on making sure my son’s daily needs were met. I was diligent with his routine. I had to stay in the present moment with only minimal planning for flights, taxis, and train schedules. If I had thought any further ahead than getting my son to sleep at his usual times, I’m sure it would have got the best of me. My perseverance lied in the certainty that we were doing the right thing for our family and that this opportunity was something we couldn’t disregard.

It was July when we arrived in New Zealand, the middle of winter. Getting used to the ‘seasons’ has been an adjustment. Winter means rain and strong wind, and the feeling like snow is imminent. When no white falls on the ground, the Minnesota girl in me gets homesick. I’ve no complaints about Christmas at the beach, but it does make me homesick in a different way. Still, New Zealand is absolutely breathtaking. We were overjoyed to tears on our train ride from Auckland to Wellington.

The first major task in our new country was to find a house to rent. We did, but it was bone-chilling cold. No insulation, lots of windows, but single pane. The first night in our rental, there was a huge storm with southerly winds off Antarctica whistling straight through our house. I had to dress my son in sweaters and three pairs of pants for the night. The heat from the wood stove was sucked straight out through the gaps in the windows and walls. Housing in New Zealand is, for lack of a better word, depressing.

On top of that, within our first month of arriving, New Zealand had a string of rather large earthquakes. There was a 6.5 magnitude quake that made our abode feel like a bouncy house at a carnival. Luckily, the house structure consisted of wood, which sways instead of collapses. Even in the moment of the quake, the three of us huddling in the doorway on our knees, waiting for the amusement park fun to stop churning our stomachs, I didn’t doubt our decision to move. I certainly complained, but I didn’t doubt.

Life seemed to get easier as we, and the earth, became more settled. I enrolled our boy in swim classes, took him to playgroups, explored the botanical garden, and met several other women who graciously took me under their wing. Without those women, I don’t think I could have made it as long as I have here. They are some of the truest, most genuine women I’ve ever met. Of course there are unkind people everywhere, but I feel blessed that I have found my tribe.

As much as I love the country and the people, the ‘adventure’ hasn’t been easy. In my son’s first two years of life, I’ve not questioned my role as mama. Motherhood was something I always wanted to experience. Through all of the changes we’ve endured thus far during his existence, not once did I question if I was doing this well. I followed and trusted my instincts. I knew that I was a good mama. I knew that God gave me a gift. Just like the certainty surrounding our move, I was confident as a mom.

But now the “trying twos” stage has shaken our home. Our boy has realized he’s separate from us and with that independence comes very loud, unwavering opinions. And no matter how many times I remind myself that a two-year-old having tantrums is expected as a part of their development, these tantrums wear me down.

Through all that we’ve faced in our move over here: the awful housing, driving on the left side, a lease that favors the landlord, loved ones deaths, the endless homesickness, the earthquakes, the severe wind, the mold, the rats, the sheer loneliness, and the tarantula-like spiders; nothing makes me feel more uncertain than when my boy is kicking and screaming.

During those fits of throwing toys, I long for something comfortable— something familiar, so that I don’t feel as though I am entirely alone. Social media has become a big part of our lives. I’m ashamed to admit that, but if it weren’t for the Internet, I don’t think I would feel as connected as I do to my friends and family across the Pacific. I’ve come to depend on logging in to inform me of what’s happening in my loved one’s lives. No one emails any more and certainly no one calls. But I don’t think my family and friends realize how much it means to me when one of them ‘likes’ a post of mine or writes a comment on a picture. To me, it’s the equivalent of them checking in on us down here. It took me awhile to get used to the idea that any big event in our loved ones lives would be learned via the Internet, but now I’m grateful to have that connection.

My son has had to form his relationships with his grandparents through the computer. I’m the first to protest and say that’s unhealthy, but I’ve been amazed at how much of a bond he has formed with them that way. Obviously, it helps that he has spent time with them and gets along with them in person, but now he tells me to “go away” when my parents are on Skype, so that he can have them all to himself. It’s different, and it’s our life now.

When we decided to trade in our life of comfort for a life of adventure, what I didn’t think through was that my husband and I were already on an adventure in parenting. People gave us advice before we moved, and we researched and made lists to help us prepare. But what no one told us was just how knackered we would be. Sure, when you have a baby, everyone knows sleep is absent, but no one explained that moving halfway around the world from your dear ones, with a toddler, would make every bone in your body beat from exhaustion. There is never a break.

When we pictured our move here, we imagined exploring the islands and maybe a trip to Asia. But my husband and I are lucky if we have one date night a year. Everything is that much harder. We make it a point to be sure to have dinner together every night as a family. That might seem odd to some, but it’s a ritual that has become important to us. The three of us are really all we have down here.

With all that said, and with tears in my eyes as I write, I don’t regret for one second that we made this move. It has shaped us for the better and my son has had rich experiences already. One of my son’s favorite birds is a Kiwi that he visits up close at the local zoo. He has pure joy on his face when pat-patting a native Pohukatawa tree and his playgroup consists of friends from all over the world.

As we near the end of our second year here, however, there are moments when I feel utterly broken. All my energy goes into taking care of our son and finding my way through the uncertainty of not only motherhood, but also a new country.

While we can’t predict how long we’ll be able to live here in Godzone, for now we’ve traded our familiarity for affordable health care, barefoot walks, jaw-dropping landscape at every turn, and friends who we love like family. Our adventure has become our life. And with everything in life, even in the uncertain moments, I trust that love will be there near and far.

Lissa

Lissa Waller Carlino is originally from Minnesota where she grew up performing in local and professional theatre. She moved to Vermont in 2004 where she met her husband and the two have been married for seven years. They have an almost three-year-old son and now live in Wellington, New Zealand. Lissa enjoys writing Women’s Fiction and is currently on the quest for publication of her first novel. She writes a personal blog called “Where’s Joe Wellington?” that is a true story of her search for a long-lost Kiwi friend and also chronicles life in New Zealand. To hear more of Lissa’s story, you can find her blog at whereisjoewellington.blogspot.com, LIKE her Facebook blog page at facebook.com/whereisjoewellington, follow her on Twitter @EWallerCarlino, or subscribe to her blog.

 

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

 

It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Paula who’s sharing her unique journey through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Paula and I grew up together. We were in Girl Scouts, piano lessons, band, choir and musicals together. We enjoyed prom together. Our last names started with the same letter, so even our lockers were together. I guess you could say we did life together for many years! Paula is now a mom of two, and works full-time as a Minister with Children, Youth and Families. Today, she’s sharing her experience as a woman who’s chosen to maintain full-time employment in the midst of motherhood. Her decision has, at times, been met with shock and disapproval, but she’s also experienced deep fulfillment in her role as Reverend Paula. Please extend a warm welcome to Paula. I think you’ll find her post interesting, enjoyable and easy to read!

I have worked a professional full-time job for most of the eleven years I have been a mother.

Shortly after graduating from college, I enrolled in graduate school. I studied at Drew Theological School to get my Master of Divinity with the goal of becoming an ordained minister in the United Methodist Church. In March of 2004, my first child was born and I was commissioned into ministry just a few months later. While I took a standard maternity leave, I never considered staying home with my child would be my only job. My decision to return to work was met with shock and disapproval by more people than I anticipated. I was asked questions like “don’t you want to be with your child?” or “how can you leave such a young baby in a strange daycare?” or “why not work part-time?” or worst of all “if you didn’t want to be a mom, why did you have children?”

Sometimes the things other moms didn’t say were even worse. My first experience in ECFE was with a group of moms and their 3-6 month olds. I had returned to work when I started attending the class. I picked up my son from daycare and drove to our afternoon ECFE class wearing my typical business attire. The other moms were dressed in neatly coordinated and very washable outfits. During circle time, we were asked to share about our daily routines. When I said I worked full-time, there was an audible gasp in the room. Somehow there was shame in my choice…that I couldn’t or wouldn’t be an acceptable mother to this child.

As a privileged, white, middle-class woman, I had a choice. Perhaps that is why other women (and some men) were so hard on me about going back to work. I am aware that many women and families have no choice. However, I can’t help but wonder if a woman who supports her family on a single income might experience similar shame in her situation. I can’t help but wonder what kind of harm that does to a woman and her sense of motherhood. I was devastated to know that other moms thought I was somehow hurting my children by working full-time. With love and support from family and friends, my choice to remain in church ministry has been rewarding and fulfilling to both me and my children.

I now have two amazing children. Elliot is 11 and Sydney is 9. I love my children to the moon and back and like any mom, I will do everything in my power to protect and nurture them. My job can be stressful and frustrating, but the journey has been rich. I have served four different faith communities and each community has embraced my family. I am blessed to have a vocation with extremely flexible hours that allow me to schedule around doctors appointments, school conferences and a host of extracurricular activities. Yes, I will confess that sometimes my work ends up being first. When I catch myself in that place, I apologize to my children and I pray that they can both forgive and understand.

I believe that children need a variety of trusted adults in their lives to thrive into adulthood. Serving in a church blesses me with a network of men and women who love my children unconditionally. When I am leading worship, I look out and see my children sitting with their adult friends. When I am teaching at youth group, I look around and see my children sitting side by side with teenagers who not only tolerate their presence, but also engage them in conversation. When I have to stay at church for an evening meeting, my church family reaches out to help care for my children so they can get their homework done and into bed at a reasonable time. My children know people of all ages at their church and that makes my heart swell with pride. Their lives are richer and more diverse because of my choice to work.

My choice to work full-time is just that…a choice. My choice is not better or worse than a parent who chooses to stay at home with their children. Don’t judge me because I choose differently than you. Instead, let’s celebrate that it takes a village to raise our children, and that we need parents at home and parents in the work force.

Paula

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

Today, it’s an honor to introduce you to Jessica who’s sharing her unique journey to and through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Jessica has been grieving the death of her mom for nearly two decades. She’s a wife and mama of little ones now, but her mama-less heart still aches for the everyday presence only a mom can fill. I had the great privilege of meeting Jessica at a writing conference last fall, and have since made it very clear to her that I hope our paths keep on crossing for many years to come. Jessica is a beautiful writer with a beautiful story and a huge heart. Please extend a warm welcome to my writing sister, Jessica. 

It frightened me how the grief choked me to my core – 38 weeks pregnant, lying on my bed fending off a cold and all the questions rolling around in my brain. Sobs rocked my body and threatened to crack me down the middle.

My husband tenderly asked me what was the matter and after what felt like a short eternity of tear filled gasps I managed to lisp out, “I just miss my mom so much. I want her to be here to take care of me.”

My mom didn’t die last year. No, she died when I was twelve. I’ll be thirty-one in two weeks.

We never stop needing our moms. We just don’t. I’ve ridden the waves of grief for nearly two decades now and I can promise you that nearly every day I have found a reason to need my mama.

Now to be fair there are a dozen women who have come alongside my motherless heart and loved me well. My mother-in-love is one of these dear women and I never want her to think otherwise. She is kind and dear and medicine for my mama-less heart.

The tangible loss of a biological mother? It’s like having the umbilical cord cut all over again, but this time you feel it and it drains you hollow in all the mother needy places.

The grief isn’t always so heavy. No, grief finds you in weakness. It finds you when insecurity hits and it makes you feel like half a person, less than a woman, a mother with a limp. It makes you doubt your ability to mother well.

Lisa-Jo Baker writes often about children walking around “like so much eternity with skin on” and that is true to be sure. But mamas, we love like eternity with skin on and when we leave it can feel as if the very presence of love leaves along with us. Our work, the mundane of it all, is eternal in the richest most important sort of way.

I see this clear on a Tuesday afternoon. My three year old daughter calls for me from her room as she wipes sleep from her post-nap eyes. I walk into the room and scoot her over to make room for myself and a few quick snuggles before the day moves on.

Out of the blue she asks me if I miss my mom. I’ve talked to her about my mama and explained things in the best way I know how to her little heart and mind, but this question blindsides me. Tears well immediately. She brushes her tiny hand across my cheek and I exhale deep as they fall.

She looks at me with her brown eyes wide with the questioning and tells me words that hitch my breath in my chest, “Don’t worry mama. We’ll find her.” I guess in all my explaining I never realized how confusing the phrase “I lost my mama” could be to a three year old.

The truth is I do find her.

I find her in the strangest places. I find her up around my daughter’s eyes when she laughs. I discover her in myself when I deliver a meal to a friend in need and recognize all the good stuff about my mama replicating itself in me. I glimpse her in the mirror when I put my makeup on and I wrestle the thought of “Am I becoming my mom?”

The mama I lost has become the mother I’ve found by becoming a mother. The doe-eyed daughter with the questions has been my mama come full circle in the sweetest of ways.

What I once thought disqualified me from motherhood, the not having a mama, has become the fire in the furnace of my daily calling. Motherless mothers embrace their calling in a uniquely passionate way. We know the power of motherhood.

In all the mundane places of my day there are pieces of my mother. Her life with Jesus stretching out into eternity and my scraping to find Jesus, or rather allow myself to be found by Jesus, collide in the daily. I wonder how I’ve lived so long without her, but the truth is I have never been without her or Jesus. My knowledge of the two so closely mingled because she knew the power of loving well and giving me heaps of Jesus along the way.

There is a fear that comes with motherhood. It is the fear we will have to leave our loves early. The most frightening part is we have no control over whether or not this happens. We have to love into the darkness, the unknown, the unexpected breaking of living in a fallen world.

We have to do this because someday, most likely, we will leave our children behind. The most important question we can ask ourselves is, “What are we leaving behind for our children?” On those days when your shirt is soaked from the sink full of dishes or the van is full of fast food bags and sweaty jerseys, lean into your calling.

It matters.

Motherhood is not a momentary calling. It is a work of eternal value.

Believe me, I know.

Jessica

Jessica Leigh Hoover is a wife, mama, writer and grace lover. She lives in the hills of North Carolina but has the red dirt of West Africa in her soul. She blogs about her belief that grace is the biggest kind of brave and how life is messy and beautiful in the living, losing and loving. Her favorites are Jesus, family, chocolate, vintage anything and British accents. You can find her on her blog, facebook, twitter, pinterest, and instagram for more.

Jessica & Baby Photo Credit: Sarah Siak Photography

 

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!