So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

Hey there, it’s me again (awkward wave).

What’s it been, three years, since the last time we really talked? I honestly cannot believe this much time has passed.

Three years may be a long time not to speak, but like Willie Nelson says, “You were always on my mind.” Like an old friend I haven’t seen for years, every time we meet up, we pick up right where we left off. Well, friend is probably too strong of a word. A companion is perhaps more accurate. We walked together for many years—a very long road. Sometimes hand-in-hand and sometimes, like the last three years, separate but still connected.

So here’s the thing, we have to break-up. I absolutely cannot avoid the cliche here, so I’m just going to lay it out, it’s not you, it’s me.

My time with you was so lonely. So gut-wrenching. I often wished you away because your mere presence was excruciating. You were merciless. Relentless. It felt as though I couldn’t escape you. You have been an ever-present shadow in my life. For a time, you influenced every relationship I had: my marriage, my family, my friends, and acquaintances. There wasn’t an area of my life that wasn’t colored by your existence. Your presence bore a hole in my soul—a hole so big at times it seemed impossible it would ever fill.

That hole I was talking about, it didn’t fill, per se, but it changed. It changed me.

RELATED: Infertility Changed Me

I have changed how I look at things. I have changed how I talk about things.

I am more empathetic now.

I am more compassionate now.

I understand, better, the true meaning of grace. I can give it freely now to others but, most importantly, to myself. 

I used to get jealous or resentful when other women would announce they were pregnant. Like it was a personal affront to me or something.

I used to get angry when someone would say something a little insensitive, like “If you would just relax it would happen” or “I wasn’t even really trying, and it happened.”

What I know now is that people, in general, are just doing their best. You are a tough topic for people to discuss. It’s uncomfortable for most. I believe people would say things without thinking about it in an effort to ease their own discomfort, which is a very human thing to do.

I recognize now, you were not my truth. For so many years I had conceded I was you and you were me.

You were not me.

You don’t define me.

I always blurred those lines. Like a profoundly codependent and toxic couple, I was inextricably tethered to you. Not for anything useful, I might add. But for my belief that this was it, that you were my destiny. 

I know now that it wasn’t your fault. You were just you. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I also know that neither did I. I didn’t “wait too long,” I didn’t “stress too much,” it wasn’t my diet or my exercise plan. It wasn’t that I took the wrong supplements or didn’t take any at all.

RELATED: Infertility Wrecked Me and Made Me Stronger

It was that it was my journey. This was the path God planned for me. You see, I HAD to walk with you for me. I had to experience that pain. To be shaken to my very core in order to evolve.

You showed me so many parts of myself I never wanted to acknowledge—the darkest parts.

The self-hatred.

The shame.

The anger.

The resentment.

The jealousy.

Don’t get me wrong, I could have stayed bitter. Some days, I still feel that bitterness, although nowhere as sharply. The bitterness doesn’t hurt like it used to, sting like it used to, and it doesn’t consume me like it used to. But I know now that is because of me. Acceptance of you was the most difficult decision that created my greatest peace.

Now, all this to say that I will still experience you. I cannot get pregnant spontaneously, well, it’s like a less than one percent chance of it happening anyway.

But I will not let you control me anymore.

I will not put you in charge of my feelings or my actions. It’s all on me, baby.

I still want more children. Later this year, my husband and I will go through our second embryo transfer, another little boy. I pray, daily, that our dream of adding one more precious baby to our family will come true. But if it doesn’t, I won’t blame you. And I won’t blame myself either.

RELATED: The Infertility Blessing

The author Elizabeth Gilbert talks very openly about her fear. About how, for many years, she let it take over her life and kept her from doing the things she wanted to do. I think you’re that for me.

You are my fear. My fear that I was never going to be a mother. That even if I got pregnant, I would lose the baby. That even if I didn’t lose the baby, that something awful would happen. And that even if something awful didn’t happen, I would still be a terrible mother. I let you feed all of it.

Not anymore.

Much like the extraordinary Ms. Gilbert to her fear—infertility, you can come along with me, but you don’t get to drive anymore.

Always,
Me

Emily Ginn

Emily Ginn is a wife, mother, life coach, writer, and IVF survivor. Her life's mission is to help eliminate the emotional suffering that women and men experience while undergoing fertility treatments. 

No Man in a Girl’s Life Holds More Influence than Her Dad

In: Kids, Marriage, Motherhood
Father and daughter on amusement ride, color photo

As I sat outside Walmart watching my husband of nearly 16 years walk in with my 9-year-old daughter to buy me a box of tampons, I realized how blessed I am.  This is real life. Not only does he not care about running into the store and picking up these items, he asks our girls if they want to join him, and they use this time to talk. They talk about real-life—about growing up, changing bodies, what tampons are even for, how they can wait years and years before they need to start dating, how he will be waiting outside...

Keep Reading

You Don’t Raise Your Babies to Be Little Forever, but I Thought I’d Have More Time

In: Kids, Motherhood, Teen, Tween
Little boy peeking over wooden fence, color photo

I can see the yellow blur of the school bus passing in front of my window. Soon my little boy will excitedly burst through the front door with his picture of a giraffe from art class. His big brown eyes will meet mine as I get a toothless “I missed you, Mom” grin. He will tell me everything he had on his tray for lunch, recount the whole soccer game at recess, and share all about that hilarious thing his friend said on the bus. He will then sit on my lap as he takes each school paper out of...

Keep Reading

I May Not Earn a Paycheck but My Work Is Worthy

In: Motherhood
Mother and son unloading dishwasher, color photo

I remember getting a paycheck once.  I chose direct deposit, and I’d review my monthly bank statements with no surprises. I knew how much I needed for my bills, and I knew when I had a little extra to spend. I knew I was getting compensated for all those hours I put in, and it felt good to earn a living. But that all changed when my husband and I decided I’d quit my full-time job to stay at home full time to raise our children.  RELATED: God Gave Me the Heart of a Stay-at-Home Mom All of the sudden,...

Keep Reading

Being the Mother of an Athlete Means Learning to Let Go

In: Motherhood, Sports
mom watching sports game

This is my post. Has been for years. I’ve held this spot sacred, watching you play for so long. Yet as you grow older, I find myself mourning the day I‘ll finally have to give it up. I’ve worn a path here, pacing back and forth with worry. I’ve packed the earth here, jumping up and down with excitement. I’ve found friends here, locking arms so tight that they’ve become bonded like family. I’ve made room in my heart for teammates here, cheering as if they were my own children. I’ve learned to respect, to love, and to offer grace here,...

Keep Reading

My Little Girl Has Big, Brave Dreams

In: Kids, Motherhood
School paper with little girl's handwriting, color photo

My 6-year-old daughter wants to be a soldier.   When we heard from the ultrasound tech that we were having another girl, that was not exactly the career path that popped into our heads.   There’s something absolutely terrifying knowing your child wants to do something big like this. I’m sure I’d be petrified if I had a son with the same ambition, but there’s something extra scary about it being your little girl. There’s something weighty about raising a daughter who wants to be a soldier. But honestly, it’s not a surprise at all. RELATED: God Has Filled Your...

Keep Reading

Thanks For Leading by Example, Mom

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Adult woman and mother smiling, color photo

Dear Mom,  Thinking back on my life as a child, young adult, and now a middle-aged mother myself, I am indebted to you for the many life lessons you have taught me—some directly, mostly leading by precious example.  If I have any bones to pick with you, it could be that you made it all look so easy. So very, very easy! Marriage, motherhood, working outside the home, relationships with in-laws, relationships with co-workers, relationships with church friends, and just relationships in general. I hardly ever saw you cry. The few times I did see you cry stand out to...

Keep Reading

Dear Introverted Mom, Take that Break

In: Faith, Motherhood
Woman outside with book and food

I am alone, in a hotel room, 20 minutes from home, lying back in the crisp bed, feet propped up on billowing white pillows. A good book is in my hand. The large window beside me overlooks the Mississippi River as the sun slowly sets and people unwind for a southern Louisiana evening in downtown Baton Rouge. I’ll probably order room service for dinner. I spent the afternoon at the coffee shop across the street, sipping on a deliciously caffeinated beverage carefully made to my liking. I ate a delicate snack filled with fruits, fancy lettuce, and expensive cheese while...

Keep Reading

As an Anxious Mom, I Remind Myself You Were God’s Child First

In: Faith, Motherhood
Little boy sleeping

I remember bringing that squishy baby home from the hospital. His 9-pound birth weight didn’t label him as scrawny by any means, but he was so small to us. I cringed the first time I laid him in the bassinet beside my bed. I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him all night long like the nurses in the hospital nursery. I couldn’t make sure he was breathing every second of my coveted slumber. To calm my worries, we turned on our bathroom light and left the door wide open. The extra light wouldn’t disturb our angel from...

Keep Reading

Home is Holy Ground

In: Faith, Motherhood
Kids and mom at home

Some days, I wake up and walk around my house feeling my chest rise looking at the chaotic mess I didn’t get done the day before.  Trampling over toys, incomplete laundry, and dishes that seem to load up by the end of the day. I pause, I stare, and I wonder which of the objects in each room I should tackle first. I take a deep breath and notice my heart and my mind are overwhelmed with a running checklist. Why can’t everything just get done all at one time? You can talk to a dozen mothers and I am...

Keep Reading

I Want My Kids To Know God’s Always There

In: Faith, Motherhood
Woman holding cross in the palm of her hand, color photo

A few months ago, my friend lost his dad. And it impacted our community profoundly. Because he loved SO BIG. Everywhere he went, he couldn’t help but talk to and engage with people—sharing a joke to make them smile or offering a compliment to build them up. He was a connector. And in all the connecting he did, he was quick to remind everyone he encountered that our hearts are ever connected to a God who loves us. It had become his thing to pass out little wooden crosses to those he happily chatted up as he went about each...

Keep Reading

 5 Secrets to Connect with Your Kids

FREE EMAIL BONUS

Proven techniques to build REAL connections