In my first year of marriage, I joined a club I never thought I would. The one with mothers with more babies than stand at their side. In December, I had my second miscarriage. I had hoped it would be a one time thing. I've struggled a lot the last two months with the betrayal I feel in God allowing me to become pregnant, only to miscarry later and how hope doesn't disappoint even when it feels like its let you down. It hurts and to understand why God lets these things happen, to wrestle without immediately pulling the church answer off the shelf is hard. I don't have all the answers. I don't know what God has in store.
A friend shared this on Facebook today,
There's still a wrestling, but somewhere in there is hope.
I know many of you have faced tragedies and struggles in motherhood. It's a risky business without guarantee. But we continue to love our children and trust the Lord, however hard that may be.
A few years ago, this post was birthed from my own struggle with a mother's risk.
I hate when I hear people ask a pregnant women, “Are you excited about becoming a mother?”
A pregnant woman is not waiting to become a mother…she already is. Motherhood, like life, begins at conception. As soon as that child is conceived the mother’s body begins to cultivate and protect the babe. Motherhood doesn’t begin when you first hold your baby in your arms. The investment, emotion, and risk begin long before the first wail.
You don’t wait to love your child until they enter the world. You love with the shades of double pink lines, with the loud oceany heartbeat, and the first picture…even if your baby does resemble an alien. You love.
And anytime you love, you risk.
Motherhood is a risk, because there is no guarantee.
There’s no guarantee that your child will be obedient, quiet, a lover of Jesus. There’s no guarantee that they’ll sleep through the night or respect you when you say “no.” There’s no guarantee that they’ll escape the terrible twos or stereotypical teenage years.
There’s no guarantee that your child will be successful, smart, or well-mannered. There’s no guarantee that your child will always be safe, always be well. There’s no guarantee that your child will live longer than you. There’s no guarantee that your child will make it out of the womb alive.
And yet you love.
Motherhood is a risk, because there is so much to lose.
I have loved and I have lost and I have gained and loved again. And this I know for sure…God is good all the time.
How have you struggled and gained in the risk of motherhood?
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