September 13, 2012
As I looked down at him, it hit me like a ton of bricks and I just started sobbing. This was my son. My baby I was never supposed to have, sleeping peacefully in his crib (in a fedora) at almost 2.5 years old. If you told me I'd be where I am 3.5 years ago? I never would've believed you. And the thing is - I never want to forget that place I came from. Sure, I want to let go of the hurt and disappointment that came with that season. But the Lord delivered us from that brokenness and has built us a beautiful family. I always want the feeling of seeing the Lord work in our lives to remain fresh in my heart. And I never want to forget the miracle that Manny is, or take for granted that he made me a momma. And Maeva too. When you get busy with life and mothering, it's easy to forget those dark days where you wondered if you ever even would be called mommy. And while it's a distant memory now, it still holds a special place in my heart that, at times I least expect, is brought to the forefront. It's then that I'm reminded that part of my story, is sharing my story. Because if it gives hope or encourages just one person, that's all that matters.
I know this is a pretty emo post, but for some reason, I just felt like sharing my heart today. And encouraging those of you that are still waiting for your miracle - keep believing..."For nothing is impossible with God." If you are in a season of waiting, I would love to be praying for you. You can leave me a comment, or if you feel more comfortable, you can send me an email. (my address is on the contact page.)