Motherhood

I disappeared for a little while.

Not because Daughters Collective was forgotten, but because I was growing a little boy.

And now he’s here—and we are completely in awe of him.

As maternity leave begins, so does a new season for this little corner of the internet. One where I’ll probably write with a little less sleep, a little more coffee, and a heart that has been changed forever.

Motherhood has shown me something about Jesus that I don’t think I could have fully understood before—not in the way I see it now.

For nine months, my body was given over to growing another life. His heartbeat, his tiny hands, every eyelash and every detail of my son were being formed in secret by the Creator, who graciously chose to use my body as part of His work.

Then came birth.

A body broken so another could live.

It was the hardest thing I have ever endured. My body was broken. It changed me physically, emotionally and mentally in ways I am still discovering.

But through that brokenness came new life.

And every time I think about that, I catch another glimpse of the gospel.

Now, every time I feed him, I’m reminded that love often looks like giving.

Giving my comfort, my sleep, my time and my body—not because I have to, but because I love him.

Even when it’s difficult. Even when it costs me. Because that’s what love does. Love gives.

And in those quiet hours, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about Christ.

Not because my sacrifice could ever compare to His—it couldn’t—but because motherhood has given me one of the clearest glimpses I have ever had of sacrificial love.

Jesus willingly gave His body to bring us life. He knew the cost before He embraced it. He loved us enough to endure it.

Every feed, every sleepless night and every moment of pouring myself out for my son has become a quiet reminder that love is not measured by convenience.

Love gives itself away.

Love is sacrificial.

Love says, “It’s not only about me anymore.”

And yet, motherhood is complicated.

There are moments when I question whether I’m good enough for him. Moments when I feel guilty for missing life before—for missing the freedom to make my own coffee, leave the house spontaneously, or even take a shower without rushing.

Then I look at his little face and his beautiful eyes, and I melt in awe.

This little life is so worth it.

He is a miracle.

What mothers do is treated as so normal in society, but when you have actually carried, birthed and sustained a life, it feels anything but ordinary.

It feels completely miraculous.

Sometimes I feel like a superwoman. Other times, I feel totally overwhelmed. Most of the time, I simply stare at him and wonder who he will become, what he will do, and what gifts God has placed within him.

A few weeks before he was born, Behold (Then Sings My Soul) by Hillsong was in the worship setlist at church. During that song, he rolled and moved more than he ever had before.

I cried happy tears, hoping that somehow, even in the womb, he was responding to worship. That he was praising Jesus before I had even seen his face.

That moment felt especially meaningful because of his name.

Judah.

“This time I will praise.”

He came after a particularly difficult season of my life—a season filled with lament, pain and healing.

The summer before I discovered I was pregnant became a journey of recovery. Then, on the very day I found out about him, I opened my Bible to the story of Leah.

Leah knew what it was to feel unseen. To long to be loved. To carry disappointment while still clinging to God.

When she gave birth to her fourth son, something shifted. Instead of placing her hope in being accepted by others, she turned her eyes to the Lord and declared,

“This time I will praise the Lord.”

So she named him Judah.

From that moment, his name settled in my heart. Even though I didn’t know his gender, this study and God speaking to me through it definitely gave me an incline. God gave me a baby boy.

And that is what he represents to me.

Praise after lament.

Joy after sorrow.

Hope after healing.

He is my joy. A reminder that God is faithful through every season, and that even after heartbreak, there is still reason to praise.

Motherhood is hard, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

And if this tiny glimpse of sacrificial love has changed me this much, how much greater is the love of the One who gave everything so that we could become children of God?

Motherhood has left me in awe—not only of the little boy sleeping in my arms, but of the God who first loved us, formed us and gave Himself for us.

“For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”

— Psalm 139:13

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.”

— Psalm 139:14

I’m so excited to be back.

Welcome back to Daughters Collective.