I hang the garment bag on the mirrored door in the bathroom, and a feeling of excitement washes over me. Today I’m marrying a wonderful man, and in five months we will have a daughter. It was only this morning we’d walked out of the ultrasound office after finding our baby was a girl; something I hadn’t expected given my husband-to-be’s family genetics typically favoring the male gender. I unzip the garment bag to reveal the beautiful dress within. It is just over forty years old, and the color which was once a bright white is  now more of a cream, giving it a rather of antique charm. The empire waist, collar and cuffs are embellished in lace lined ribbon with tiny pink and blue flowers; the same ribbon that make tiers in the floor length skirt. The long sleeves are sheer and flow to the cuffs, which were meant for very tiny wrists; bony wrists like mine, like my mothers. It is, after all, my mother’s dress; the very one she wore when she married my father nearly forty-one years ago.

I smile thinking about the day I asked her if I could wear it for my wedding. The look on her face brightened with a mixture of surprise and joy I’ll never forget. She’d seen me in a wedding gown before. On the day of my first wedding I’d worn a Cinderella dream dress, filled with beading, crystals, and glittering tulle. It was a fairy tale dress, a glorious wedding, but the marriage did not compare. My mother, who’d seen me at my most beautiful, soon after saw me in a way most mothers hope to never see their daughters, abandoned and lost at age thirty-one. She’d stood by, helping me gain my footing, supporting me as I rearranged my hopes and dreams, and later, rejoicing when she discovered I was pregnant by a man who couldn’t wait to spend his life with me. Without judgement, and with an open heart, she rejoiced.

As I had no desire for another large wedding, my family understood, and embraced my wishes to elope with my fiancé. My tummy was just slightly beginning to show signs of pregnancy, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to wear on my wedding day. I didn’t want anything flashy, but I knew I wanted it to be something special. After searching for ideas many late hours online the image of my mother’s gown popped into my head, and all I could think was – how perfect. How perfect it would be to wear the gown that marked the beginning of my parent’s forty-one year marriage. How seamlessly the empire waist and A-line skirt would allow room for my growing belly. Without a doubt it was the perfect lucky charm to wear on the day I begin a new life. It was clear when I brought up the subject, my parents thought so too.

I carefully pull the gown from the plastic covering and hang it from the beautiful canopy bed. The gown seems to glow in the soft lighting coming through our room windows at the old Bed and Breakfast we’d chosen for our elopement. I stand watching the small dust particles glittering like fairy dust in the light before turning back to my dress. It is then that I notice the small envelope pinned to the collar. Careful of the lace, I gently unpin the envelope, and find the note folded inside. It’s from my mother. It is only twenty minutes until I take my vows, but I stand silently, looking at the words she’d written in her beautiful cursive hand. She didn’t write about how she’d wished she were here, or about disappointment with my decision to elope. She wrote about how the rain outside while she pressed her old wedding gown reminded her of how it rained on her wedding day, and how she felt it was a sign of luck. She told how she and my father were blessed in their marriage, which produced two wonderful children. She ends with, “It touches my heart knowing you will be wearing this gown on your special day, sharing a life with someone who has your best interests at heart, and gaining a new perspective on life when you first gaze upon your child.”

This is what it means to be a parent. It’s about loving, supporting and trying your best not to judge your child’s decisions. It’s about hoping against hope that they are happy, and doing one’s best to let them know that they are unconditionally loved. I know I will not always be able to step back and understand what is going on through my daughter’s mind, but I know I will always hope that no matter what, her life turns out to be a beautiful one. This is what my mother is doing for me. She’s not questioning, warning or showing worry. She’s letting me know she’s always on my side.

My intended walks into the room, breaking my concentration. “What are you reading?” he asks. “A note from my mom, wishing us luck,” I tell him. I put the note away for safe keeping, and finish curling my hair before finally putting my dress on. My husband-to-be tells me how beautiful I look, and I smile, subconsciously running my hand over the flowing fabric to feel the curve of my belly. I feel beautiful. Perhaps one day my own daughter will feel beautiful in this gown too. In the flower filled, enchantingly overgrown garden of the Bed and Breakfast I recite my vows to my husband with only a few of the employees looking on, and still I can’t help but feel my mother is with me; even more than I’d felt at my first wedding where she was actually standing by my side. She is with me in my happiness, in my dreams for a wonderful future, and everything that will come with it. She is with me, believing that the second time will be the charm.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Marisa Svalstedt

Marisa Svalstedt is a stay-at-home mom living in her hometown of Bethel, Connecticut, with her husband, and their daughter. She received her MA in English from Western Connecticut State. In addition to writing Marisa enjoys photography, modeling, and crochet.

Instead of Counting Down the Days until My Marine Came Home, I Counted My Blessings

In: Motherhood
Mother and two children holding "welcome home" signs next to soldier daddy, color photo

It was a relatively mild morning in October—cool even, considering we were in the middle of the Mojave Desert. We stood atop a concrete amphitheater overlooking a grass field in the middle of the small USMC installation known as Twenty-Nine Palms. All the unit’s seabags were lined up in neat rows, each one stuffed to bursting. John held our daughter Eleanor who had just woken up from a nap in her infant carrier. Blearily, she looked around and then smiled when John paused his conversation with some of his friends to coo at her. I sat with our son Sawyer...

Keep Reading

I Am an Adult with Autism

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother and three children in wildflowers, color photo

Thirty years. That’s how long it took for me to get the right diagnoses. Thirty years. Of struggles. Of shame. Of depression and anxiety. Of bullying. All without knowing the true causes and what was really going on. I never would have believed you if you told me a few years ago that I was autistic. It wasn’t until all three of my children were diagnosed with autism that I started to see the similarities and begin to question. At first, I thought there was no way. Wouldn’t I have known by now? It just can’t be. So I threw...

Keep Reading

I Hope My Daughter Loves Her Future Mother-in-Law

In: Motherhood
Bride holding mother's hands

I’m a proud boy mom. I catch bugs, I catch balls (in the house), and I try my best to catch my boys’ every fall. I love it. I love being a boy mom. There is one part I don’t like: everyone telling me they will leave as soon as they meet “the one,” and their wife’s family will push my husband and I out of the picture. “A boy is yours ‘til he finds a wife, a daughter’s your daughter all her life.” I’d heard it too many times from older moms who chuckle as if the rhyming covers...

Keep Reading

Adoptive Parents-To-Be Deserve to Be Celebrated Too

In: Motherhood
Couple making heart with hands

My husband and I are on a very exciting journey—we are in the process of adopting our first child! Wow, we are stoked beyond words. Albeit we are on the front end of the journey at this point (as in just now about to complete our home study). Yet we are knee-deep and in the thick of it all. After struggling with infertility for about two years and many doctors’ appointments later, it became clear that natural conception is not how we will become parents. We never thought we would encounter infertility. Infertility has been hard and a grieving process...

Keep Reading

I’m Thankful for the Community We’ve Found

In: Friendship, Living, Motherhood
Community on street having a picnic

It was the end of the school holidays, and the return to school after Christmas was looming. The children had had two weeks at home. The general sense of routine was lost for the boys, with late nights and relaxing days watching YouTube while playing their Switch. I was eager for routine to make a reappearance through school. As we headed into the weekend before the start of school, Josh had a cough and then a fever, and it became clear this would not be the week I had envisioned. By Monday morning the boys appeared more lethargic than usual,...

Keep Reading

Our Kids Need Us as Much as We Need Them

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little boy sitting on bench with dog nearby, color photo

During a moment of sadness last week, my lively and joyful toddler voluntarily sat with me on the couch, holding hands and snuggling for a good hour. This brought comfort and happiness to the situation. At that moment, I realized sometimes our kids need us, sometimes we need them, and sometimes we need each other at the same time. Kids need us. From the moment they enter the world, infants express their needs through tiny (or loud) cries. Toddlers need lots of cuddling as their brains try to comprehend black, white, and all the colors of the expanding world around...

Keep Reading

Your Kids Don’t Need More Things, They Need More You

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Mother and young girl smiling together at home

He reached for my hand and then looked up. His sweet smile and lingering gaze flooded my weary heart with much-needed peace. “Thank you for taking me to the library, Mommy! It’s like we’re on a date! I like it when it’s just the two of us.” We entered the library, hand in hand, and headed toward the LEGO table. As I began gathering books nearby, I was surprised to feel my son’s arms around me. He gave me a quick squeeze and a kiss with an “I love you, Mommy” before returning to his LEGO—three separate times. My typically...

Keep Reading

Take it from a Mom Who’s Been There: It Gets Easier

In: Motherhood
Mother with teen daughter embracing and smiling outside

My view from home is changing as my oldest is now married and my youngest is wrapping up his college career. But dear mom of little ones and even those not-so-little ones, I want you to know that I remember. I remember the side-eyes and the judging glances from older moms as I juggled toddlers doing their toddler thing. All these years later, I still feel the harshness of their stings. I remember the gloom and doom declarations of “Just wait until they turn three, or ten, or thirteen . . .” Those almost gleefully delivered little quips that made...

Keep Reading

This is How to Support Miscarriage Moms

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman with arm around another woman sitting in field

When you hear the term miscarriage, what do you think? My initial thought was the loss of an unborn child, but have you ever really wondered what truly happens when you are having a miscarriage? Our first miscarriage occurred immediately after our wedding in 2019, we had a chemical pregnancy after conceiving while on our honeymoon. This means we had a positive pregnancy test, but by the time we got to our OB/GYN, I had the heaviest period of my life, resulting in a negative serum pregnancy test. That was hard enough to go through but was nothing compared to...

Keep Reading

Mom, Will You Pray With Me?

In: Faith, Motherhood
Little girl praying, profile shot

“Will you pray with me?” This is a question I hear daily from my 9-year-old. Her worried heart at times grips her, making it difficult for her to fall asleep or nervous to try something new. Her first instinct is to pray with Mom. Perhaps this is because of how many times her Dad and I have told her that God is with her, that she is never alone, and that she can always come to Him in prayer and He will answer. Perhaps it is because she has seen her Dad and I lean on the Lord in times...

Keep Reading