The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

I am a person who likes to keep myself busy. I like to dream big. I like being involved in a lot of different activities in a lot of different capacities. If I find a new project, idea, or interest I can become obsessive. I will pour my heart and soul into it until the point of exhaustion or burn out. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy having relaxing lazy days, but let’s be honest how many of those do we really have anymore? We all have crazy busy lives and are all pulled in many different directions that seldom do we have time or allow ourselves time for relaxation. I am going to share something about myself with you all that isn’t easy to admit but will hopefully resonate with a few of you. 

I HAVE to keep myself busy. I HAVE to be involved in a million activities that take up a lot of my time. I just am a better person and function better if I do that. I have seen what happens when I don’t. It’s called “Filling the Void,” and I am a pro at it. “Filling the void” means to keep yourself so busy with different projects, activities, and ideas that you simply do not allow yourself time to feel or think about anything that is difficult or missing in your life. When described like that it doesn’t sound so bad or like such a bad concept really. Honestly, when talking to people I think that’s what a lot of people do to cope with the difficult situations life deals us sometimes. “Conceal, don’t feel” – just like Elsa in Frozen. It’s what I have done and continue to do sometimes in order to deal or actually not deal with a lot of my feelings about our infertility struggles over the years. 

I wasn’t really aware that I was doing this until my Mom pointed it out to me a few years after Jayden was born. Mom’s know best and she saw it in me long before I ever would’ve recognized it. When we moved back to Nebraska I went back to college, and had several different jobs, all while raising an infant. I was very busy and a lot of the time very stressed out. I was not at peace or content with anything. It always felt like something was missing, and I just kept searching to find it. I wanted more children so badly, and I wanted Jayden to be a big brother so much. Those feelings hurt so much that I simply had to keep stuffing them away and not let myself feel them. And the only way to do that was to stay busy.

When Jayden was four I told my family that I really did know what I wanted to do with my life and that was to finish nursing school. That was always my original plan out of high school, but it just never was completed. I needed their blessing and their support because I knew it was going to be hard. I also knew that this time I couldn’t quit or change my mind. They were all worried about how I was going to do it with a young child and that it might not be good on any of us to do this. It was the first time my Mom made me aware of my constant effort to “Fill the Void.”  While she was supportive of my decision and knew that I always wanted to be a nurse, she was worried that this was another desperate attempt to stuff my feelings about our infertility situation by keeping myself wrapped up in something else.

I did get accepted into nursing school, and it was extremely challenging and stressful. For 2 ½ years I didn’t have much time to see outside of my nursing school books and my planner. There were many times I thought I wasn’t going to make it and wanted to give up but I wouldn’t let myself. It was hard on all of us and I think we were all so happy when I was finally done. It was a really big deal for me because it was something I had wanted for so long and something I had finally finished. 

After I graduated I honestly didn’t know what to do with all of my time that I now had. I was working full-time but there wasn’t anything else to occupy my evenings that I had spent studying after Jayden went to bed. I felt lost and very out of sorts. That unsettled feeling began to lurk inside me again. It felt familiar and it was irritating to me. I had just completed one of my biggest goals for myself, and I still didn’t feel content or at peace. Something was still missing, and I didn’t have anything at the time to take my mind off of it. I wanted another baby, and this time I couldn’t think of anything else to “Fill the Void.”

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Shannon Bauer

Shannon is a wife to her husband Jeff, mother to her son Jayden, 11 years old, and a Registered Nurse by day. She grew up on a farm outside of Wilcox and now resides in Hildreth, NE. She enjoys exercising, cheering for her son at his sporting events, shopping, singing, gardening, sipping a cup of coffee, Sunday dinners with her family, and spending time with friends. Her road to motherhood has been a challenging and bumpy one with many highs and lows and something she will never take for granted. Learning about infertility and helping others experiencing it is a passion she holds deep in her heart. Her journey along this road is a constant work in progress and something she is growing and learning from every day. It is her goal to one day write a book or start a blog telling her story. She and her son Jayden share their favorite bible verse Phillipians 4:13 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” and find great comfort in these words in life’s challenging moments.

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief
Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

What No One Tells You about Losing a Sibling

In: Grief

Nobody tells you that when you lose a sibling, your entire childhood flashes before your eyes. There’s no better witness to what you experienced growing up than that one person who was standing nearby for all of it. And when they’re gone, a part of that childhood and a part of that story goes with them, because it was only ever known between the two of you. There’s no last chance to say, “Remember when?” or to laugh about the things that made you laugh to tears together, a million times at the kitchen table. There’s no last conversation about...

Keep Reading

Grief Didn’t Break Me, It Rearranged Me

In: Grief
Sad woman looking off to the side

I survived losing my father after his long, grueling battle with cancer. It was one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I had a front row seat to watch cancer pick him apart piece by piece. When you lose a parent, you lose a part of yourself. They say time heals all wounds, but you never stop missing the good ones, and there are days when it feels like it just happened. By the grace of God, I survived, but I will always miss my father. Then, almost a decade later, I lost the career that helped me...

Keep Reading

I’m Learning To Be Soft and Strong

In: Grief
Woman sitting and crying on floor

During the weeks we cared for my grandmother in hospice, survival mode felt necessary. There were medications to track. Visitors to update. Logistics to manage. I remember sitting on the couch that served as my makeshift bed and listening to the rhythmic hissing and puffing of the oxygen machine one night. While my mom showered off the day, I texted my sister updates and sent my husband a quick message of love. I could still smell the lavender candle we had lit earlier in the day to mask medical scents. The house was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. I was...

Keep Reading

The Legacy Our Mothers Leave Is In the Details

In: Grief
Woman's hands holding beautifully wrapped small gift

It has been two months and nine days since my mom passed away. The first several weeks were spent on the details and logistics of planning her service. She passed in December, so once her beautiful service had passed, I busied myself with the preparations for Christmas. By mid-February, I finally began to process some feelings of grief on a deeper level. The quiet of this less-busy season is allowing the grief to soak in a bit more. Not the big things; not the obvious, grief-heavy reminders that stop me in my tracks. Instead, I’ve been noticing the small things....

Keep Reading

You Never Get Over Losing Your Mother

In: Grief
Woman and grown daughter smiling

It’s been 10 years since I last heard my mother’s voice. Ten years since I could pick up the phone and ask a question I already knew the answer to, just to hear her say it anyway. Ten years since someone loved me in that very specific, unconditional, occasionally annoying way that only a mother can. My mom died in 2015. And while “passed away” sounds softer, more polite, the truth is that she left. Suddenly. Permanently. With no forwarding address. She was gone. What I’ve learned in the decade since is not what I expected. I thought the biggest lesson...

Keep Reading

My Husband Is By My Side Through Every Storm

In: Grief, Marriage
Man with arm around woman's chair

The year 2025 began as a quiet storm. I was slipping into the fog of depression while navigating the early chaos of perimenopause, and some days simply getting out of bed felt impossible. My thoughts felt dark and heavy, my body unfamiliar, my energy nonexistent, and my moods uncontrollable. And yet, in the haze, there was one constant: my husband. He noticed the subtle shifts I barely acknowledged. The sighs, the quiet retreats into myself, the moments I almost broke. Instead of judgment or frustration, he offered presence. He held space for my struggle without trying to “fix” it, and...

Keep Reading

Losing My Mom Shaped Me As a Mother

In: Grief
Woman hugging young child, back view

Becoming a mother has a way of bringing old wounds back to the surface, even ones you believed had healed. I never imagined grief would surface so strongly in my motherhood journey. I thought it was something you carried silently, something that faded with time. But becoming a mother felt like my loss rising to its feet and saying, I’m still here There are moments when I reach for my phone to call my mom, only to be met with the reminder that I can’t. I want to ask her if what I’m feeling is normal, if the exhaustion softens,...

Keep Reading

Memories of My Grandma Live On

In: Grief
Glass fish sitting on window sill

Be intentional. Take the picture. Create memories. Because even when we think we have all the time in the world, one day it will slip away. Sadly, this is exactly what happened to my grandma and me. While I was growing up, my dad and his parents had a strained relationship, and they were estranged for about the first five years of my life. Thankfully, they reconciled, and my grandparents and I finally had the opportunity to establish a much-anticipated relationship. Though I was never able to form the same closeness with them as I had with my maternal grandparents,...

Keep Reading

Netflix Captured What I’ve Treasured for 17 Years: My Daughter’s Room Exactly How She Left It

In: Grief, Motherhood
Girl's bedroom with posters on the wall and toys on the bed

It was a Sunday evening. I was alone, scrolling through Netflix, searching for something, anything, to fill the quiet. Then I stumbled upon a documentary I had no clue existed, called All the Empty Rooms. After reading the description, my heart immediately went out to all the parents who contributed to this film, and to the man behind it, Steve Hartman, whose compassionate heart radiates in every frame. One statement he said hit me like a freight train: “What we need to talk about is the child that’s not here anymore.” Period. Powerful truth. Curiously, I started watching. Then I...

Keep Reading