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You know that saying, “All of God’s grace in one tiny face”? Growing up, I never understood the meaning behind it. I thought it was overused, cliche even. I mean, of course, babies are adorable, but I never fully grasped the concept of the saying. That is until I became a mother myself.

Everyone has a different journey to entering motherhood. Mine, in particular, was unique, to say the least. All my life, I couldn’t wait to have kids of my own. Yes, even when I was a kid myself, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God’s calling on my life was to be a mother.

Working up to adulthood, I made decisions with my future children in the back of my mind. I made sure I went to college to pursue my bachelor’s degree because I knew I needed something to fall back on if all else failed. I even became very involved in church, thinking I will have all my bases covered when the time comes.

Although I tried, nothing in the world could have prepared me for the trials in the near future. It was at this point in my life when I realized I had to go through hell and back to be able to become the mother, the person, that God was calling me to be.

You see, on paper, my life was going exactly as planned. I finished four years of college, and I was getting married. All at the tender age of 21. Everything was perfect . . . until it wasn’t. It wasn’t until I lost nearly everything, including my life, that I was able to truly be molded into the person God had planned me to be all along.

I​n 2018, roughly eight months after graduating from college and merely four months after getting married, I went through something I was 100% sure would break me, and at the time it almost did. But it was then that I realized I had to let go of my perception of the perfect life and trust in God’s plan.

When I was 22 years old, I almost lost my life. I caught the H1N1 flu, and instead of the virus attacking my sinuses like normal, the virus attacked my cerebellum, causing my brain to swell dangerously, ultimately leading to the loss of speech, loss of balance, and giving me significant tremors throughout my whole body, but mostly in my hands.

I spent two months in the hospital trying to find answers, running test after test. When I was finally released from the hospital, I spent eight straight
months in in-patient rehab reteaching my brain basic tasks like how to walk again, talk again, even feed myself again.

When everything was said and done and I was finally feeling like I was in the clear, the doctors pulled me aside and shattered my dreams all over again with just one sentence. They told me that because of everything my body had gone through, all the tests, all the medications, they weren’t sure I’d be able to have kids.

As you can imagine, my now 23-year-old heart was completely shattered. All of the dreams of being a mother were gone in an instant, and I was so very angry. Angry at myself, angry at the doctors, but especially angry at God for putting this desire in my heart only to take it away. I didn’t understand at all, and I was so completely lost.

When I was finally discharged from rehab, I had gone from in-patient to out-patient therapy. The intensity of my therapy had lessened and, in turn, so did my desire to heal myself. Going from doing physical therapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy five days a week, every week for eight months straight to only doing physical therapy and speech therapy once a week was a huge blow to my progress. My motivation and determination to continue my recovery was slowly diminishing.

When I finally settled back at home, it was time for the holidays. Family timeessentially a time to be happyall the while, I was distracted by my own sadness and heartbreak. Don’t get me wrong, they welcomed me home with open arms and helped me transition into this strange reality that was now my new normal. They made the unbearable a little more bearable with an insurmountable amount of love and support.

All the while, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that overcame me when the doctors told me they were questioning my body’s ability to make a baby. Now, not only did I have to take on the burden of coming to terms with my new reality every morning I got out of bed, I simultaneously had to learn to cope with a very heavy wave of sadness that would wash over me every time I thought about having kids of my own. Every time I even set my eyes on a child after that, the simple yet heartbreaking news the doctors had given me so nonchalantly played on repeat in my head, breaking my heart all over again.

But God does miracles! Understandably so, I am no stranger to witnessing God’s amazing, countless number of miracles. With that being said, I was absolutely beside myself, although not surprised at all, of the miracle, yet again, that God was blessing me with when the pregnancy test read “positive” on that January morning of 2019. I remember falling to my knees, thanking God profusely, promising Him I wouldn’t take a single moment of pregnancy or motherhood for granted.

Fast forward six years and yet another baby, and I still stand by that promise. I wake up every morning thanking God for my babies, and I go to sleep every night thanking God for another messy yet joyous day of motherhood. Of course, I am beyond thankful for my secondborn, but my firstborn will never fathom how giving him life saved mine. He got me through the darkest, most confusing time of my life, and that’s something he’ll never fully comprehend.

So yes, “all of God’s grace in one tiny face” went from a cliche quote to a reminder of how amazing God has been to me. All of the struggles I faced had vanished the moment I saw my son’s face for the very first time. He is a living, breathing reminder of the goodness of God.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Taylor Vines

Hi! My name is Taylor Vines, a 28-year-old mom from Midland, TX. I have been through a lot in my life, but my kiddos have helped me overcome every obstacle!

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