Embarking on the adventure of motherhood, I've come to realize that the journey begins long before you hold your child in your arms—it unfolds in the quiet moments of pregnancy. It's a beautiful transformation, both physically and mentally, as we prepare to welcome a new life. In a world that often celebrates individual desires, this shift teaches us the profound joy of selfless giving and finding contentment in the simple miracle of having a child.

The joy that fills our home is nothing short of a divine blessing. Witnessing my 6-year-old son's pure excitement at having a sibling and my usually reserved husband engaging in heartfelt conversations with our daughter turns our space into a canvas painted with the hues of love, laughter, and shared moments. It's impossible not to be overwhelmed with gratitude.

Yet, being a mother of two has its moments of chaos and self-doubt. The daily tasks sometimes feel like an insurmountable mountain, and I find myself questioning if I'm doing enough. I think back to a trip to the grocery store, where a lone mom expertly navigated with a newborn and two young kids in tow, leaving me in awe and a bit flustered. How does she do it?

In those moments, I've learned to be kinder to myself. Mothering two is a learning curve, a journey of trial and error. It's realizing that I can't do it all and that it's okay. Having a solid support system has been my saving grace, turning overwhelming tasks into manageable victories.

As I stroll through the store with my son and daughter, there's a newfound sense of accomplishment. Motherhood is a journey of growth, not just for our children but for us as mothers. It's messy, imperfect, and beautiful. And through it all, I've discovered that the lessons learned in the midst of chaos are the most valuable.

In moments of reflection, I am grateful for the support that carried me through, for the laughter that drowns out the challenges, and for the realization that being the perfect mom isn't the goal—it's about embracing the perfectly imperfect moments. And for these lessons, I am eternally thankful.

A Hymn

1 Not now but in the coming years,
It may be in the better land,
We'll read the meaning of our tears,
And there, sometime, we'll understand.

Chorus:
Then trust in God thro' all thy days;
Fear not, for He doth hold thy hand;
Tho' dark thy way, still sing and praise;
Sometime, sometime, we'll understand.

2 We'll catch the broken threads again,
And finish what we here began;
Heav'n will the mysteries explain,
And then, ah then, we'll understand. [Chorus]

3 We'll know why clouds instead of sun
Were over many a cherish'd plan;
Why song has ceased when scarce begun;
'Tis there, sometime, we'll understand. [Chorus]

4 Why what we long for most of all,
Eludes so oft our eager hand;
Why hopes are crushed and castles fall,
Up there, sometime, we'll understand.

5 God knows the way, He holds the key,
He guides us with unerring hand;
Sometime with tearless eyes we'll see;
Yes, there, up there, we'll understand. [Chorus]

Where are you going, my little one, little one,

Where are you going, my baby, my own?

Turn around and you're two,

Turn around and you're four,

Turn around and you're a young girl going out of my door.

Turn around, turn around,

Turn around and you're a young girl going out of my door.

Where are you going, my little one, little one,

Little dirndls and petticoats, where have you gone?

Turn around and you're tiny,

Turn around and you're grown,

Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own.

Turn around, turn around,

Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own.

Listen

During the initial stages of my sorrow, praying seemed beyond my reach. Despite the Scriptural encouragement to pray in times of distress, articulating my raw and painful emotions to God felt more than I could bear. However, in those moments, I discovered solace in singing. I chose hymns that echoed my enduring faith, expressing my commitment to trust Him despite sadness. And so, singing evolved into my heartfelt prayer to God.

After some time it became crucial for me to discover different outlets for my grief, a way to externalize the pain dwelling within me. In my quest for meaningful expression, I delved into the realms of poetry, heartfelt conversations with those who shared a similar journey, and dialogues with someone I knew would simply listen without diminishing or intensifying my pain. Along this path, I stumbled upon quotes that eloquently captured the essence of my emotions. Here are a couple:

It was long enough for a head full of dreams and hope.

I'll miss the memories we never made.

Now, having journeyed through and processed this profound loss, I can honestly share that the most agonizing part was holding onto this overflowing love for those unborn children, only to not have the chance to shower them with it. I painted pictures of them in my mind, crafted plans, and my heart brimmed with love for them. The pain pierced deepest when confronted with a future that would never unfold, leaving me in a world where they wouldn't be a part of my life.

Yet, I was never alone in this, for God intimately knew the depths of my pain. He cradled me through the darkest moments, and the beautiful outcome is my precious one-year-old baby girl. My profound sorrow reached His ears, and I was blessed for remaining steadfast in my faith. Gratitude fills my heart, a testament to the unwavering assurance that my faith is not in vain.

But I still remember the days I prayed for what I have now.