hope

Motherhood & Parenting

Two Words We All Need to Hear

Has there ever been a time when you were caught off-guard because someone said something to you that spoke directly to your heart, and yet, you didn’t even know how much you needed to hear their words?

I had that experience this past week.

Several other moms and I gathered to listen to a seasoned mother speak about her experiences as she raised her (now grown) children. She shared that although motherhood is beautiful and rewarding, it is still SO hard. There are moments when we feel helpless, hopeless, overwhelmed, uncertain, lonely, and inadequate, amongst other things. We believe that no one could ever understand what we’re going through, so we carry on hiding our feelings and trying our best to keep it all together.

As she continued talking, I felt as though she was looking through a window directly into my weary soul. I could hardly believe that, thirty years ago, this seasoned mom struggled with some of the same “heart issues” that I’m facing today. Then she said two simple words that released all of the feelings I had been suppressing, “Me, too.” And as the burden on my heart lifted, the tears that had been welling up in my eyes began to overflow, cascading down my cheeks.

I cannot tell you how desperate I was to hear someone say those two words, to know that I wasn’t alone.

When I slowly lifted my gaze and glanced around the room, I was met with looks from other teary-eyed women who, like me, also needed to know that they aren’t alone.

And so, I’m sharing the same words with you today…

  • Does motherhood make you feel lonely sometimes? Me, too.
  • Do you ever feel like you’re not a good enough mom/wife? Me, too.
  • Have you ever felt like you had to hide something because you were worried about what others would think of you? Me, too.
  • Have you ever been in a situation where you felt hopeless, like there was no way out? Me, too.
  • Have there been times when you wish that your life looked different? Me, too.
  • Do you regret some of the choices you’ve made? Me, too.
  • Have you ever felt like no one could ever understand how you feel? Me, too.

Whatever you’re facing today, please be reassured that you are NOT alone; everybody struggles, but not everybody shares. Nobody has it all together. There is no such thing as a “perfect” mom or wife. All we can do is give our best, each and every day, no matter what that looks like.

We can also find hope in knowing that others before us have overcome some of the same challenges we’re facing today.

How did that seasoned mom get through it all? She was intentional about developing relationships with other moms and she found a close community of women to “do life” with. They were honest about their struggles, they encouraged each other and lifted one another up in prayer. And, most of all, she leaned on her faith in God.

“For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13 (NLT)

Do you believe we can make it though, together?  Me, too.

Blessings,

Elise

I love hearing from you. Please feel free to leave a comment below, or to connect with me on Facebook.

The post, Two Words, first appeared on the blog, Boys and Blessings.

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Prematurity and the NICU

Connecting With Other NICU Parents

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I never thought that I would be a NICU mom.

The first time I walked into the NICU, I was completely overwhelmed. There were life support machines everywhere, beeping and blinking, working hard to keep all of those tiny babies alive. Words could never express how my heart ached when I saw my tiny baby hooked up to all of that equipment. Several friends and family members looked on, offering their love and support, but they still couldn’t fully comprehend the depth of my pain.

When my son was born at 25 weeks, a few friends of mine who had experienced the NICU before me, began pouring into my life with words of encouragement and hope for the future. Their support was a tremendous source of comfort.

As our days in the NICU turned to weeks, then months, I became intentional about connecting with the other NICU moms who were journeying alongside me. In doing so, I discovered that there’s an instant, unspoken bond that forms between people who share a heartache; we find strength in each other.

If you’re a new NICU parent, I want to encourage you to connect with others around you. One day, you might discover that you’ve introduced yourself to a new lifelong friend.

Here are four steps I took to connect with other preemie parents.

1)  I found places to interact:

  • I talked with other parents in my baby’s POD, a.k.a. his roommates’ parents.
  • I spoke to other moms in the pump room.
  • I connected with other parents in the parent lounge.
  • I introduced myself to other parents in the pump parts wash station.
  • I attended the parent support group meetings when I could.

Note: The rooms in your NICU might differ from mine, but it’s important that you find a time and/or place to connect.

2)  I always started the conversation with a smile before asking whether they had a little boy or a little girl. After they responded, I would share that I had a little boy, what his name was, when he was born, how early he was, and/or how far we were into our NICU journey. Sometimes the conversation continued, sometimes it didn’t, and that was okay too. No matter the outcome, it always resulted in another friendly face in the hallways.

3)  I kept the conversations positive, offering empathy and words of encouragement to the parents that I connected with. I also made sure to remember their babies’ names and stories so that I could ask them how things were going the next time we met.

4)  I joined online preemie parent support groups, including one for my local area. There were many parents in the group whose children had grown and they offered invaluable insight and support.

By reaching out to other NICU parents, I discovered a beautiful community. I am so thankful for each and every friend I’ve made; they will always have a special place in my heart.

Love and Blessings,

Elise

The post, Connecting with Other NICU Parents, first appeared on Boys and Blessings.

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Encouragement

Six Months Later

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The landscape of my home was forever changed six months ago.

Since then, I’ve made several attempts to share what’s been on my heart. Each and every time I’ve been left with a blank computer screen, unable to express the storm raging within my soul. There may never come a day when I have the right words to say—watching loved ones suffer tremendous loss and seeing the destruction first-hand is indescribable. I still have moments when it’s tempting to dwell on the hurt, anger, and fear caused by the fire. However, I know that doing so would only cause further pain. Instead, I’ve been choosing to shift my focus to the many blessings that have (and are still to) come out of this situation.

In the past few months we have seen love pour out for our city from coast to coast. The compassion and generosity that’s been shown to our community has warmed my heart. From the people who drove up the highway with gas for stranded evacuees, to the record-breaking Red Cross donations, to the truckload of Christmas decorations that was sent up for those who lost their homes, the blessings keep pouring in. Thank you, Canada!

I have also seen my city unite like never before: a beautiful, resilient strength has arisen within the citizens of Fort McMurray. Tragedy tends to have a way of bringing people together and I imagine that May 3, 2016, will always be a shared, unspoken bond between us.

As we work together to rebuild, there may be days when we feel as though it’s hopeless, as though there is no end in sight.

When those days come, let these truths encourage your heart:

It will get better
You can do this
Just keep going
Cry if you have to
Accept help when you need it
And, most of all, hold onto your hope.

Like all of the chapters in life, this one too will come to an end.  And, rest assured, we will all be stronger for coming through it together, both as individuals and as a community.

Love and blessings,

Elise

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Prematurity and the NICU

What It’s Like to Wait to Bring Your Baby Home

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The birth of our preemie was nothing like my previous birth experiences.

My hospital room was dark and quiet. The sounds of a baby crying echoed throughout the unit, reminding me of what I was missing. Less than two years earlier, I had delivered my second baby and was staying in the executive suite across the hall with my husband. Our stay had been filled with visitors, gifts, quality family time and midnight nursing sessions.

Things were completely different this time; my empty arms ached for those late-night newborn snuggles and the sounds of a content baby had been replaced with the quiet, steady rhythm of a whirring pump. A tear rolled down my cheek as I gently touched my swollen, empty belly. I needed to see him again. As I prepared to head back up to the NICU, my body seemed to protest each movement, reminding me that the labour and delivery had been especially rough this time around.

When I stepped out of the room, a young couple breezed down the hallway toward me with their newborn in a car seat. They were glowing with pride and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as they walked by.

Up in the NICU, I slowly pulled back the cover on the isolette and took in my baby’s small frame. Weighing in at just under 2 pounds and at only 13 inches long, he was the tiniest person I had ever seen. With the nurse’s help, I pulled up a chair next to him, gently placed my hands on his head and feet and whispered, “Mommy’s here.”

Five days later, I was discharged. As we drove away from the hospital, I kept glancing at the empty backseat behind me, knowing it would be the first of many nights when I’d have to leave without my baby.

We never expected something like this to happen to us, but then again, no one ever does. Through all of it, our hope and our faith in God were what drove us, what spurred us on even in our darkest moments.

Our son spent a challenging 123 days in the NICU before he came home. On that day, my heart swelled with pride as we walked out of the unit, together—our little miracle, our little fighter was finally coming home. That moment made every prayer, every tear, every minute spent in the hospital worth it. There was a sense of relief, of victory and an unspeakable joy in knowing that our family would, at last, be complete.

I share my story to help raise awareness about prematurity. Thank you for being part of the conversation.

Blessings,

Elise

 

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Encouragement

To the Woman Who is Struggling to Love Her Body,

I saw you today.

I couldn’t help but notice how your eyes darted away from the mirror when you caught a glimpse of your reflection. My heart went out to you as your beautiful smile faded, replaced by a solemn look.

I may not know your story, but I’m certain that something has brought you to this point. Somewhere along the way a beautiful daughter was deeply wounded, left with an aching scar on her soul.

Perhaps you were hurt years ago by those kids in gym class, the ones who poked fun at you and chose you last because sports just didn’t come as naturally to you.

Maybe it began in your teens–you felt that the other girls were “prettier” than you: their skin was flawless, their hair and makeup perfect and their fashionable clothes hugged them in all of the right places. Then ever so slowly, you began to wish you were a little more of this and a little less of that.

Maybe you were happy with your body when you were younger, but after being blessed by motherhood, you hardly recognize your reflection. Your stomach, once flat and toned, is now a blubbery mess of stretch marks and saggy skin and you’re still fighting (unsuccessfully) to lose the “baby weight.” When you look around, you find that you often compare yourself to the other moms whose beauty is still radiant, and you’re secretly envious of them.

Your struggle to embrace your body might stem from something much deeper, much more intimate than simply body image: fertility issues and/or pregnancy complications. Whether you’ve battled infertility, miscarriage, pregnancy loss, infant loss, stillbirth or premature birth, this private pain haunts you every time you look in the mirror. One glance at your reflection sends you reeling and you cannot help but wonder why your body has failed you, why it just couldn’t do what it’s supposed to.

No matter the reason, please know that you’re not alone—I have experienced every single one of these heartaches, too. And, there are women everywhere, just like us, who feel the exact same way.

Sometimes we forget that we are our own worst critics; I’m meaner to myself than I would ever dare to be to anyone else.

I remember one particular day, when I was 20 years old, I just couldn’t tear my eyes away from the mirror. I stood there, slowly taking it all in: my make-up was flawless, my hair perfectly styled with a sparkling tiara on top, the white dress clung to me in all of the right places…and I still wasn’t satisfied. On the day that was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, when I was supposed to be “glowing” and “beautiful,” I chastised my reflection in the mirror. Now, when I look back at photos and reflect on that moment, I cannot understand what made me feel like an unattractive bride. Ten years have passed since then and, in that time, I’ve come to learn an important truth: “True beauty comes from within.”

It sounds cliché, I know, but it is the truth. It’s not what you are that makes you beautiful, but rather who you are. Our bodies are changing with each passing day, the beauty of our youth slowly fading as they do. There is something remarkable about this though; if it didn’t happen, we might miss out on knowing that outward beauty is not a true reflection of beauty.

Take a moment to think about the women in your life whom you hold dear. When these women come to my mind, beauty and age are not a factor in my love for them. I see what no mirror could ever capture: that their hearts are full of love, their smiles are illuminated by joy and their eyes twinkle with kindness.

I’m now working towards viewing myself in the same way that I see these women and on remembering that there’s so much more to me than just my appearance: I’m a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend, a cousin, a daughter, and (most importantly) a daughter of The Most-High King. The truth is, who I am has more significance than how I look.

When we begin to view ourselves through the eyes of The Heavenly Father and those who love us, our perspective changes. Doing so has taught me that you can learn to embrace your body when you first choose to love the soul inside of it.

As for you, I love you just the way you are.

Blessings,

Elise

I love hearing from you. Please feel free to leave me a comment below, or to connect with me on Facebook.

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Devotions, Faith

The Way to Find Peace

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“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV)

A mother always remembers the first time she sees her baby. All of my children are precious, but the day I met my youngest will forever pull on my heartstrings. I had to be wheeled up to the NICU to see him because he entered this world much too soon. As I sat by his isolette, marvelling at how tiny and perfect he was, his nurse gently placed her hand on my shoulder and whispered, “They say that having your baby in the NICU is like riding an emotional rollercoaster, full of highs and lows. Be prepared for good days and bad days. He has a long road ahead of him.”

Our first low arrived late one night when the hospital’s phone number illuminated our call display. My hands trembled as I answered the phone. I listened intently while the doctor explained that they were going to run some tests because they were concerned about my tiny baby. He promised to call us back as soon as they knew more, then said a hasty goodbye.

Several minutes passed. A knot formed in my stomach as worry clouded my heart. I stared at the phone and thought, Please ring! I don’t want to wait any longer! I want answers now!

Desperate and impatient, I turned to the internet for more information. However, my husband quickly interrupted my search by reminding me, “Elise, God’s got us this far. We don’t know what his plan is in all of this, but we know that he’s got this. Instead of searching the internet, let’s pray and look to Him.” Reluctantly, I closed my search. I knew that he was right, that the pesky knot in my stomach couldn’t be undone simply by learning more about my son’s condition. The only way I was going to find peace was to give my worries to God.

In 1 Peter 5:7 we are told, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” These are simple, specific instructions given to us by our Heavenly Father. In the same way that children share their fears and concerns with their parents, so are we to bring our problems to Him. And yet, just as I quickly turned to the internet for answers, sometimes we are reluctant to go to God first.

Maybe we hesitate because we need to feel like we’re in control of a situation. Or, perhaps we believe that our circumstances are too big, or too insignificant, to give to God. Regardless of our reasons, God is always there. He stands with outstretched arms, patiently waiting for us to surrender all of our burdens to Him.

We only need to remember that he is.

Blessings,

Elise

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Prematurity and the NICU

Our Biggest Miracle, So Far

One year ago, this past weekend, our lives were forever changed. Our little 25 week preemie, Roo, had only been in the NICU for 5 weeks. He had experienced his fair share of trials during that short time, but nothing could have prepared us for what was to come.

On the morning of February 19, 2015, I walked into the NICU and found that my baby’s health had severely deteriorated overnight. He was diagnosed with chronic lung disease, one lung had collapsed and his other lung was partially collapsed. The decision was made to put him on “the jet”, a last resort high frequency ventilation (breathing) machine that delivers hundreds of breaths per minute. They had to sedate him and give him a paralytic drug in order for the machine to do its work. At the same time, the doctor who was on came over to me and said, “Your baby is very sick…he probably won’t make it.”

As the doctor walked away, I crumpled into a sobbing mess, feeling shattered and helpless. Roo’s nurse did her best to try to pick up my broken pieces, but I could tell that she struggling to stay positive too.

My husband, who was a five hour drive away, found out the news through a text message. I would have called, but I couldn’t bring myself to echo the doctor’s devastating words aloud. Upon receiving my message, he found childcare for our other two children and came as quickly as he could.

Soon after my husband arrived at the NICU, Roo was also diagnosed with a severe case of NEC–a serious disease that affects babies’ intestines. NEC is detected and monitored with x-rays. Subsequent x-rays are done in order to examine the progression of the disease. Unfortunately for Roo, his follow-up x-rays indicated that his case was progressing rapidly, despite having been started on multiple broad spectrum antibiotics.

A surgeon was consulted and everyone on the medical team agreed that Roo desperately needed a life-saving surgery. Yet, he was too sick to be transported to the surgical unit at the children’s hospital across the river. He was then started on a series of drugs as all of the medical staff put their best efforts into stabilizing his vitals, hoping that he would soon be well enough to travel to the other hospital. And yet, nothing worked to improve his condition. If anything, all of the medication he was on only worsened his health; his kidneys suffered severe damage and he became unable to expel liquid waste from his body, even with the use of a catheter. (His intestines also appeared to have stopped working during this time.)

My husband and I stayed up all night with Roo, taking turns keeping watch over him, not wanting to leave him alone. In the morning we were physically and emotionally exhausted. He had only just barely made it through the night; his vital signs were still deteriorating despite all of the medical support. During morning rounds the medical team requested that we attend a meeting with them, to be held just after noon.

We called our parents in to join us for the meeting and we all sat down with the medical team to discuss Roo’s dire situation. Our family was presented with 3 options:

  1. We could keep doing what we were doing and see what happens. However, we were warned that waiting for him to stabilize wasn’t really the best option as the antibiotics that he was on would only serve to make the situation worse. The doctor said that as the bacteria in his bowels died off, they would give off gas, which would only further bloat his intestines and increase the chances of them being perforated.
  2. We could seek compassionate care. In doing this, we would have to admit that Roo was too sick to be saved. All life support would be removed and we would hold our baby as he left this world and entered the arms of Jesus.
  3. We could send him for the surgery that he so desperately needed. And yet, this wasn’t really an option because he was too sick for transport; he couldn’t be transported with the breathing machine that he was on and, even if he could be, he might not survive the journey or the surgery.

Basically they told us that they believed that whatever choices we made about Roo’s health didn’t matter–ultimately he wouldn’t survive.

We looked at the medical team and said, “These options aren’t really options; they all lead to the same outcome.” However, we went with option one because it offered the most hope. We were not going to give up on Roo, not after we had fought so hard for him already.

After the medical team left, my mom looked over at me and said, “They didn’t give us option four; we’re choosing option four. We have a mighty God who can heal Roo.”

In that moment we came together as a family, parents and grandparents, and prayed for Roo. We fervently prayed for his healing and that he would be saved. (At the same time, we also had many others praying for him.)

Two hours after our family’s prayer, his vital signs began to improve and they were able to begin weaning some of his medication.

The following afternoon, just 24 hours after our prayer, Roo completely stabilized: he was moved back onto a conventional breathing machine, his heart rate entered back into the “normal” range, his blood pressure continued to level out and the swelling in his abdomen was drastically reduced. At that time he was declared well enough to be transported to the children’s hospital. They loaded him into a “Stork” (a portable incubator complete with a breathing machine and monitor) and wheeled him into a waiting ambulance.

We met the surgeon soon after we arrived at the new hospital. Upon seeing Roo, the surgeon declared, “This isn’t the same baby I heard about yesterday…Roo is healing and is not a surgical patient at this time.” Hearing the surgeon’s words was like balm to our wounded souls; they brought us more hope and joy than we had felt in a long time.

Those who had witnessed how sick Roo had been could offer no explanation as to why he improved so quickly, but we knew…

This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. (1 John 5:14 NIV)

The rest of his NICU stay wasn’t without trials, but God brought us through the worst of it that weekend.

On May 16, 2015, after 123 days in the NICU, Roo came home!

Everything thing we experienced that weekend, along with just having our baby in the NICU, really tested our faith; we seem to have this innate desire to be in control of everything. And yet, the Bible tells us to trust in the Lord:

Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord, is the Rock eternal. (Isaiah 26:4 NIV)

Roo’s time home hasn’t been free of “bumps” or worries, but we’ve continued to trust that he and his brothers are in God’s hands; we’re doing our best to remember to cast our cares upon Him.

We serve an awesome God! What are you trusting Him with today?

Blessings,

Elise

Have something to say? Leave a comment below or connect with me on Facebook.  I love hearing from you!

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Encouragement

Why I Wouldn’t Change My Hardest Year

Another year is over and a new one has just begun. If you’re like me, you may find that this time of year seems to be the heaviest; it’s full of mixed emotions as we reflect upon the past twelve months.

Perhaps as you look back on the year, you realize that it was your best one yet. You may have celebrated an accomplishment, began a new chapter in your life, welcomed someone into your family, or had a wonderful life-changing experience.

However, there are those who feel sadness, regret and despair when they reflect upon the past year. Maybe that’s you. Maybe you were faced with circumstances beyond your control, you suffered a painful loss, or perhaps you just wish that some of your choices were different. Whatever the case, know that you are not alone.

Personally, I found this New Year’s celebration to be incredibly difficult as I thought about what 2015 looked like for me. In hindsight, the year didn’t start out all that well, almost as if it were foreshadowing what was to come.

On New Year’s Eve, 2014, I found myself suffering from a pregnancy complication and strapped to a gurney in an air ambulance as I was transferred to a hospital 500km away. My husband couldn’t fly with me, so he left our kids with a caregiver and drove nearly five hours to meet me–just so that we could be together to welcome 2015 in my new hospital room. As the clock struck midnight, a wave of relief washed over me. I was extremely grateful to leave 2014 behind as it was bittersweet: full of both joy and sorrow. And although I looked forward to 2015 with optimism, nothing could have prepared me for what it would bring.

Less than two weeks after ringing in the New Year, our baby boy was born at just 25 weeks gestation, weighing under 2 pounds. My world crumbled when I realized I was in labour–to say it was terrifying would be an understatement. No one ever expects to find themselves in such a situation, but there we were, thrust into the world of being NICU parents to a micro preemie.

We were told that the NICU was like rollercoaster ride, full of ups and downs. However, I disagree. I would say it’s actually more like living out an awful television drama, full of unexpected plot twists, miracles, indescribable heartache and unspeakable joy. We would have to endure this drama for four long months. During this time, our sweet baby suffered through more pain and faced more trials than most people experience in a lifetime, and we were helpless to stop it. All we could do was stand by his side and pray.

Our worst day dawned about a month after our son was born. I walked into the NICU and found that his breathing had severely deteriorated overnight. His lungs were failing him and, on top of that, he had contracted an illness so severe that the doctors advised discontinuing life support; they were convinced that any further treatment was futile. No words can describe what it’s like to be given news like that. In that moment, his life was the only thing in the world that mattered. We came together as a family and prayed more fervently for him more than ever before. By God’s grace, and to the amazement of the doctors, our son made a full recovery, only requiring surgery (a month later) to remove some scar tissue that had formed when he’d healed.

While all this NICU drama was unfolding, my husband had to return to work. For months we lived in different cities, separated by a long drive. He came down on weekends and I was left to split my time between taking care of our two older kids and visiting our baby in the NICU when our other children were at a babysitter’s.

I can tell you that those were some of the darkest days of my life: my stomach was twisted into a permanent knot, my chest felt tight–like I couldn’t breathe–and there were several nights where I found myself crying (what felt like) every tear I had. All I wanted was to be a family again, to have everyone healthy and together under one roof.

And so, after 123 days, my wish came true; our baby finally came home. However, having him home wasn’t quite like what we had expected–we found that though we had left the NICU, it never really left us. You cannot come out of a situation like that unchanged. The rest of the year was spent in countless doctors appointments and taking whatever precautions we could to ensure our baby remained healthy, so as to avoid another hospital stay. It was completely unlike when we’d brought our other (full-term) babies home from the hospital.

And yet, as I relived some of my most painful moments, I realized that I wouldn’t change anything. It may sound strange, but we experienced beauty in the midst of our circumstances. Because of our trials, we had the opportunity to meet and develop relationships with so many incredible people, several of whom will forever be dear to our hearts: medical professionals, friends, family, strangers, other NICU families, etc.

Our marriage also looks different now than it did a year ago. Going through a complex pregnancy and the NICU together showed us the true meaning of “for better or for worse”–it became more than just a nice cliché. At a time when many relationships falter, ours thrived because we chose to unite and press on together. In doing so, we learned things we never knew about ourselves, each other and our faith. As such, we came out stronger than ever before.

On a personal level, I have been completely transformed by this past year: my faith is deeper, my relationships richer and my empathy greater.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James 1:2-4 (NIV)

If this past year was hard for you, I would encourage you to look back at how it has shaped you, how you have grown and what you have learned. Consider what you can take away from your experiences, focus on what you can look forward to in the new year and how you can make the best of it.

Despite everything that has happened, I am choosing to face this year with the same optimism that I held for last year. I know it won’t be without its own trials and hardships, but I’m trusting that we’ll be able to enjoy more family time and I plan on soaking up all of the little moments that often get taken for granted.

Blessings,

Elise

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 (NIV)

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Motherhood & Parenting

Dear Mommy-to-Be

Dear Mommy-to-Be,

I know the positive pregnancy test that you hold in your hands feels heavy; it’s weighted down by all of the changes coming your way. It’s okay to feel excited and a little terrified because there is so much that’s unknown. Sweet Mama, let me encourage your heart today as you head down the winding road of motherhood.

Please don’t worry about everything with your pregnancy. While there are many things that we can be cautious of, there is still so much beyond our control. Just soak up this time with your precious baby. Enjoy every kick and each flutter of movement your child makes. Talk to your little one, sing often and play with the tiny fingers and toes that push out of your belly.

Your precious child is more aware of your presence than you can imagine and will come into the world knowing your voice. Mothers have a beautiful bond with their babies and yours will be no different.

It doesn’t really matter whether you have a boy or a girl. And, even if your child isn’t of perfect health, it won’t matter either. See, boy or girl, healthy or sick, you are going to love your little one with a love that is deeper and fuller than anything you have ever known. This love will give your heart a glimpse of the unconditional love that your Heavenly Father has for you.

When the time comes to meet your baby and your birth plan goes awry, don’t be discouraged. These things are unpredictable. Your friends’ births may have gone differently, but their story is not your story.

Be gentle with your children’s hearts. You are the love of their lives and everything you say and do will impact them more than you realize.

One day your child may speak harshly to you, in a tone that you have previously used. When that happens, it will be a painful indicator of a change you need to make and you’ll finally understand just how closely you are being watched.

Patience doesn’t come easy and praying for more may not be the answer you hope for. I’ve learned that God doesn’t just grant us patience, he teaches us to be patient. When you pray for patience, be prepared to experience even more growth opportunities.

In spite of all of the mistakes that you will make, don’t be hard on yourself. You must learn to love yourself, including all of the ugly parts, before you can fully accept your children as they are. (Chances are that your deepest struggles with your children will be because you see your own flaws reflected in them. Learn to accept those parts of you, work on improving them, and you may just see a positive change in your relationship with your kids.)

Always do the best you can; it’s the most anyone can ask for. And on those days when you make a wrong choice, ask for forgiveness. This will teach your children that everyone makes mistakes, but that things must be made right afterwards.

Be real with your kids: laugh with them, cry with them and experience life together.

Pray for your children daily. Pray for their health, their safety, their strength, their future spouses and anything else you can think of. Never underestimate the power of a praying parent.

Record your precious memories, whether it be by photos or a journal. Just don’t spend so much time documenting them that you forget to truly live in those moments.

No matter what happens, in times of joy and sorrow, remember that God is in control. Sweet Mama, keep that truth close to your heart on this journey, trust Him always and I promise that you will be just fine.

Blessings,

Elise

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:13-16 (NIV)

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Photo credit: Leah Rae Photography

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