The wooden spoon not sparing

Mothering through my hopes and desires while serving a great God is difficult yet quite simple. My flesh speaks to my womb daily wishing it were full but knowing the conviction of His hand will slap my idolatry away. The mud of other gods I have slipped in covering myself in judgment . I shall not return but my desire is to see a life outside of my other four yearns. My imaginative play continues to create games of hopscotch with sisters and baseball with brothers but my maker calls me not to pretend but pray. My body feels broken and helpless at times but HE reminds me I wasn't a mistake. I feel the wrath of jealously whispering me to abide in his truth, his time, his plan. My disobience finds me pushing the empty swing and blowing out one " Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you , Happy birthday dear empty womb, Happy birthday to you." I sing this while Jesus carries me and befriends my confusion, sorrow and discontent. His gentleness and promise wraps himself around my wounded flesh while recycling my faith .I am once again renewed and strengthened to mother in the midst of His will .

Shattered plastic, Roaring glass

"One in eight new mothers have post partum depression" Our number was called last year. As I return to the day of our birth, so many deaths occurred. One of them being the death of pride. I no longer had the ability to say I was okay because you weren't silent. You waited months for me to smile, laugh and accept what God blessed me and one year later I am humbled by your presence, your gift, and your fight for me to be better. You cried until I held you so I would remember what it felt like to touch , you stared at me until I would look down and kiss your forehead. Little by little you kept me going but you needed me to get well so you would be well. I remember every day praying that this day would be better and you always believed it would. It stopped raining, I stopped drowning, we began living. My dear son you will be one and I will be skin to skin holding you , laughing with you, telling you the day you were born was they day I was called to be better, to see and appreciate the fragility of living . I would never redeem our number for the sake of dismissing the pain....I would never deny the beautiful lesson and journey you brought me. I will never be able to silence suffering nor blind my eyes of it. I welcome it with a mothering gleam whispering ..Happy Birthday son, Happy birth day to us.