When I was a little girl, I planned to have six children. I wanted to be a working woman, wife, and a mother. I knew that was my destiny. Even more than a successful career, I wanted to be a mother. In fact, I didn’t have big career aspirations but I did have big motherly aspirations.

My twenties were full of travel and adventure. I loved every minute. But when my 30th birthday loomed in 2020, I knew I wanted more. I was ready to meet my husband and start a family. And as life and a matchmaker would have it, I did in fact meet my husband two weeks later. We were engaged the weekend of my birthday October 2021 and married December 18, 2021. 

While my husband was eager to have lots of time to ourselves, I was eager to welcome a child. At the end of our first year of marriage we did actually get pregnant, but the bliss was short-lived because we lost the baby and we were heartbroken.

These days you can’t scroll on social media without seeing some horror story about motherhood. At times when mentioning my desire for children, some have said, “Wait as long as possible; kids are expensive” or “Just keep traveling.” While I understand the sentiments and I have done those things on my own and in marriage, we still long for children. We understand children are expensive and require your time and attention and yet we still desire to grow our family. 

Waiting to have our own children has been a challenge. Some days have felt incredibly long and in moments it’s felt like time was us passing by. I am not ashamed to admit that I’m human. Some days I’m celebrating what could be, and other days I’m grieving for the baby I made plans for. The clothes I bought, the signs my husband bought to track our pregnancy…these things sit in drawers and closets. 

Last summer a friend gave me a onesie that said, “This is mom’s faith tee for her to see me before she sees me.” My friend also gave me some a little bag of mustard seeds. I pinned this onesie next to my bed and I look at it each day. I’ve started my mornings with hope and sometimes stress. Wondering when “my time” will come.  It’s hard to stay hopeful when you feel hopeless and it’s tough to keep believing when it feels like nothing is happening. Trusting the process is easier said than done and honestly, I’ve been more sad than joyful in this area of my life.

And yet, I am still believing. I am glad I got to see how small a mustard see was because I know I have that much faith in me. Sometimes, I have more than that but most days, I am battling between my faith and my fear.

When Mother’s Day rolls around I feel that pang, that internal sadness, like I am missing out. And when you’ve had a miscarriage and no living child in your arms the pain feels even deeper. Last year I was depressed and sad. This year, I am filling myself with positive words and reflections.

Lately, joy looks like going to hot yoga at 6am, finding more moments to journal, and watching a new show. I believe one day that the onesie on my wall will be on my baby and, until then, I will continue to hope against all hope and find ways to take care of myself. 

I am asking myself the hard questions because when I do, I can better understand what makes me fearful and hopeful. 

Sis, what do you do when the life you imagined is not the life you are living? What do you do when you thought you would hit a milestone and you haven’t hit it yet? 

I hope for all of us living in the “in-between” that we find ways to stay hopeful.