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For This Child I Prayed Journal
Complimentary shipping on all orders shipped in the continental U.S. only for ground delivery.
Of all the journals in the Bee Not Conformed collection, "For This Child I Prayed" is the one that impacts me on the deepest level. Not only does it deal with coping with the challenges of infertility and Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG), but it is also a love letter to my daughter.
All the women who are still praying...
Birth moms who have selflessly shared their gift of motherhood with someone else...
Adoptive moms who take to heart that love is the tie that binds even in the absence of DNA…
Foster moms who love and care for "other people's children" for months, years or for a lifetime...
The little angels we hope to see again on the other side...
The tiny rainbows who illuminated our lives with hope after the storm...
Every HG warrior - past, present, future...
My daughter Milan. You are my sweet, precocious, burst of pure energetic joy. Loving you fuels me to create a legacy for you and your children's children. Your love not only gives me the strength to move mountains on your behalf, but it also continuously challenges me to instill in you the very best of me.
Since the day you were born, my primary focus has been to painstakingly build you up and positively reinforce your wings, in hopes that one day you will soar even higher than I did, walk even bolder in your purpose, and ultimately become the very best version of you that God has called you to be.
Milan, you are mommy's answered prayer. I love you ♥
I’m not a failure, but maybe my body is…
I have vision-boarded my entire life and nowhere in the sea of cut-out images and positive affirmations was a picture of me sitting in Starbucks ugly crying over a cup of hot chocolate while sharing with a good friend my deepest darkest fear that I might never be a mom.
That moment was the first time that I had said it loud enough for the people in the back. The first time, that I allowed myself to say, “Yes, I really desired to have a baby” instead of hiding behind the “If it’s God’s plan for me, then it will be” canned response that I used to mask the deep longing I carried inside.
Since I was a young girl I admired Josephine Baker’s “Rainbow Tribe” and dreamed that when I was old enough to marry I would have a big family of my own with ten kids, mostly adopted, with one or two biologicals sprinkled in.
However, in my youthful naivete it never occurred to me that not getting pregnant when I was ready was a possibility. Heck, it never even occurred to me that I wouldn’t get married until I was in my mid-thirties. Yet, there I was knocking on the door of my 39th birthday, married for almost five years and trying hard to accept what seemed like my fate.
I was struggling.
It didn’t help that my love for children ran deep and that my heart is to help as many of them as I can. That’s one of the primary reasons that my husband and I became foster parents. I thought that I had to channel this energy towards something bigger than myself and my self-pity. I thought well maybe this really is part of God’s plan and that somehow my purpose was to be a temporary mom to foster children caught in the net of the system.
I thought I had God figured out as we went through background checks, licensing classes and home studies. But somehow staring into a cup of hot chocolate that day I felt exposed. I was running on empty and I couldn’t hide anymore.
Yes, I believe that part of my life’s calling involves helping children in some capacity. But in that moment, I finally allowed myself to grieve for what could possibly never be. I had to face my reality and understand that those two things were not tied together – one was not a substitute for the other. I could still follow my passion and serve as an advocate for children without surrendering my own desires.
I desired to carry my husband’s child. I desired to give birth to a baby that was part of me. I desired to see myself and my husband in our child’s reflection. But it seemed that it was not meant to be.
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