To my unborn child: My heart still yearns for you

{This post was written before I found out I was pregnant. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was feeling the loss of previous negative tests along with wondering about what the future would hold. I sat down on my in-laws porch and wrote this out on my phone…}

My heart today is at peace, but still yearning–sincerely, sincerely yearning that I will be pregnant with our next little one. I pray for that child and anxiously await the day I will know it is coming–on its way.

In my heart, I know the day will come. In my heart, I know that things will happen according to the will of God and His perfect timing. But even though I feel that peace, my heart still loves my unborn child; my heart still yearns.

You see, I’m starting to feel that a mother’s love knows no bounds. My love transcends earth and life. It leaps to an unborn child still safely in the arms of God in Heaven.


My love feels a special kindred love towards our child. I feel as though the child is close by and knows me as his or her mother. And I yearn. I yearn for the day that we can meet face to face, skin to skin, and welcome it into our family.

Even though I’m at peace knowing that God understands and that he is guiding my process of conception, I still feel a deep, deep yearning that cannot be simply put in the back of my head, or forgotten.

I love my unborn child and I yearn for the day I will learn it is on its way into our loving arms.

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He asked to hold my hand

This little boy has got my heart. He tugs not only on my hand as he takes me from room to room around the house to play, but he tugs at my heart strings, too. He’s tender, he’s kind, and he tells me he is brave. “Brave” he will say with conviction.

But even though he is trying to be brave, he is still a boy who needs his mama, and I’m glad. Because this mama still wants her little boy. After all, nowadays there is less rocking, the closeness of nursing is a distant memory, and cuddles are becoming fewer and farther between as he grows more independent day by day. But even though he’s growing, I long for those moments of just being close–the two of us.

The other day after he was hard at play for a while, we climbed in the car to drive home and there he was in the back. He suddenly said aloud, “Hold hand.” I looked back and there he was reaching for my hand. “Hold hand” he said again. He situated his hand just right and then he looked out the window-Just content- “cloud!” and “mountain!” he exclaimed.


It was this moment that I was so grateful for. For a couple moments my boy was back in my reach. Just him and I, and the clouds and mountains within our grasp.

“A mother holds her children’s hands for a while, their hearts forever.”- Unknown

He may not reach back and hold my hand for much longer, in fact, in a matter of a few short years, I don’t think he’d be caught dead doing that. But forever, we’ll be close. He’ll be my little, rascal boy, and I’ll be his mom–forever.

Why I’m glad I am a woman

In light of recent events in the media, as well as personal experiences, I started to feel this overwhelming sense of gratitude for the fact that I am a woman and what that means.

What does it mean to me to be a woman? It means being a steadying influence in the lives of those around me. It means emitting love, gentleness, and kindness. It means embracing my femininity. It means being sensitive and available to those who need support and love. It means supporting those around me and letting the beauty of my spirit grace the walls of my home.

I know its hard to believe, but this is my wife

I love the fact that my spirit is innately different than my husband’s;that his traits divinely complement mine and that together we make a delicate-strong, supportive-protective, compassionate-courageous…pair. I love that my boy will run to me when he feels hurt, and that he’ll run to his dad when he’s ready to roll around on the floor and wrestle (not that we don’t wrestle, too). I love that he’ll cuddle up with both of us and shower us both with kisses, because he appreciates what we each mean in his life.


Being a woman really is something special. Being a mother is a calling and the greatest expression of my femininity. In fact, I feel as a mother that I have enlarged my capabilities and found more of myself. I am more caring, more compassionate, more gentle, more delicate, more gracious, more creative. Let’s be honest, some days I don’t feel like I’m good at any of those, but really, I believe those qualities are something that settle naturally within me. If I’m not them, I have a strong desire to be them.

In an talk by James E. Faust he says some of the most beautiful things about women:

One of your unique, precious, and sublime gifts is your femininity, with its natural grace, goodness, and divinity. Femininity is not just lipstick, stylish hairdos, and trendy clothes. It is the divine adornment of humanity. It finds expression in your qualities of your capacity to love, your spirituality, delicacy, radiance, sensitivity, creativity, charm, graciousness, gentleness, dignity, and quiet strength. It is manifest differently in each girl or woman, but each of you possesses it. Femininity is part of your inner beauty.

I love that. I love that womanhood can be defined by such wonderful words: charm, creativity, radiance, dignity, and graciousness.

The truth of it all is–I love being a woman.

These relationships really do matter

This week I had some interesting realizations about being a mother; they happened to not only be useful, but extremely timely. Lately with starting school and Sam beginning to work full-time, it seems the days drag on and I feel like a puppy waiting at the door for Sam.

I started to feel like life was going to be an accumulation of day-in, day-out laundry, messes, odoriferous dishes, and playing the same games over and over with my son, Parker, that were less than mentally stimulating. Honestly, life seemed boring and lacking purpose.

Then I started reading an article for my parenting class by Dr. Bruce K. Satterfield called “The Family Under Siege: The Role of Man and Woman” about the purpose of family. Thankfully, my thoughts changed.

These relationships matter2These relationships really do matter.

As a mom, I am not just taking care of my boy and making sure he is entertained all day—I am becoming someone; someone more loving, less selfish, and more compassionate. My family and I are on a journey together and we are preparing to live together for eternities. We are practicing virtues, while simultaneously trying to purge ourselves of qualities and characteristics we don’t love about ourselves. Suddenly, parenting, even my marriage, doesn’t lack purpose–it is full of purpose.

Internalizing this idea has really changed the last few days for me. I feel like I’m taking more joy in playing with Parker. No, I’m not just playing with him so he won’t cry; I’m playing with him because I want to. I want to make memories with him. We are building a bond. 

No, I’m not just doing my umpteenth load of laundry this week; I’m practicing to keep a clean environment that invites God and brings us peace at home. No, I’m not just picking up after my husband and grumbling about it; I’m showing I care and realizing we are a team—he’s had a hard week, too, so I don’t need to tally up the offenses he’s “committed” against me.

These relationships really do matter.

They matter not just because we’re connected on paper through birth certificates and tax records, but because we’re helping each other become better and grow. When I think about my little family, these relationships, extending further than this life, I care more and I love more.

How have you learned to find meaning in your family relationships? Do you believe in family relationships continuing after this life? I would love to hear your thoughts and beliefs!

I would love to connect with you on a more personal level! Find me on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook where I share more of my daily life. 

Give him more than leftovers

We are all well acquainted with leftovers–Thanksgiving this last week has made me quite aware of the phenomenon. It’s the part of the meal left after a feast; the part that gets thrown in a tupperware or tossed.leftovers

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’ve been giving my husband a lot of leftovers. After a long day taking care of my rambunctious boy, I swear he’s eaten up all my energy. When my husband walks in the door, my mood is short and I’m at the end of my rope. I give him my love, but in the end, I’m pretty much handing him leftovers, offering him what’s left of me in a tupperware. ‘”Take it or toss it,” I feel in my heart. I’m ready to mindlessly surf the internet or veg until we go to bed.

Am I the only one who struggles with this?? It saddens me, but it’s true.

Everyday I want to give our little boy the best of me, he is one of my greatest treasures. I’ve never felt my heart latch onto another person in the way my heart instinctively latched onto his. I’ve never felt so much worry and utter happiness until he came along.

img_3387Yet, I distinctly feel my relationship with my husband should be first, even before my little ones. It is close parents who set the tone, bring stability, and model love and kindness in a home. Couldn’t I try a little harder to give my husband a fresher, more loving heart–instead of my cold heart in a tupperware?

“Those who enter into marriage should be fully prepared to establish their marriage as the first priority in their lives.”- James E. Faust

My husband, he’s the love of my life, my best friend, and my greatest confidant. He provides for me. He became my one and only the day we were sealed for eternity and I intend on keeping him mine forever. He is the daddy to my boy; the man I’ll still be dating when our little ones have grown. He is the one whose wrinkly hand I hope to hold as we watch our family grow.

So today, I’m committing to saving more of myself for my husband–more than just measly, cold leftovers for a heart.

How do you save energy and time for your husband or significant other? How do you make your husband feel loved and cherished even when you’re tired?

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