A few weeks ago we showed up for church a little late (again). In a rush to get in before the sermon started my husband hurried the oldest two to their preschool class and I struggled to carry my giant baby to the nursery.

As I approached the nursery, I slowed down a little bit when I saw the smiling face greeting me at the nursery door. It was a woman whose name I still do not know. She was lovely. She wore a flowing skirt, with a flower print top, and her bare feet peeked out below her skirt. There was no makeup on her face and yet she didn't need it. She glowed as she patted the baby she wore in a sling wrap around her chest.

She greeted me with the warmest hello although in my mind I was already coming up with excuses. Her dress and behavior had me already categorizing her as kind of a "granola" mom. One who baby wore, breastfed until the toddler years, practiced attachment parenting, babyled weaning, and used cloth diapers. I was sure she used only GMO free products in her home, made her own organic baby food, and helped cure little sniffles and coughs with essential oils and elderberry syrup.

And here I showed up. With my hair in a frazzle, lipgloss thrown on, and wearing whatever outfit from Target I had in my closet that fit me. My baby hadn't even been fed real food yet that morning besides some Cheerios thrown in his highchair table and in his bag was a container filled with formula and a bottle full of water. I had just given him a dose of Tylenol before we left for the house for his teething and, although I have cloth diapers in the house, his diaper bag was filled with many Pampers. And I wasn't even holding him close but instead I was lugging around his heavy carseat that he snugly sat in as I was hoping he'd fall asleep in the car.

Despite her warm welcome, and even a nice comment on the braid I had tied up in my hair, I felt embarrassed handing over my son to her. Because in nurture vs nature, I felt she had all of it. And I was just scraping by on this journey we called motherhood.

In spite of my embarrassment, I handed my sweet, chubby boy over to her, knowing he was in good hands and went into service where I pretended the whole encounter never happened. I would forget a moment that perhaps she could be a better mom than me and just try to ingest the Word spoken to us in church.

But I couldn't forget and still can't. Because I was wrong. I was wrong to feel embarrassed. I was wrong to label her. And here's why:

We are on the same team.

We are all on the "Mom Team."

We are all captivated by our children and grateful for their presence in our lives. We are all nervous when they leave our hands and run off to play on their own. We are all tired from hours of taking care of little runny noses, losing sleepless hours at night, and running around nonstop. We are all excited when we see them learn new things and come to tell us about new discoveries. Our hearts all overflow with joy when they come to show us a picture they just drew for us or to hand us a little flower they picked. We all get frustrated when they won't listen to our instruction and we struggle to figure out how to parent best for that child. We all have to ask for forgiveness and grace on the days we don't parent as we should. We all try to teach our kids to love big and respect others. We try to show them through our actions how to love Christ and accept His mercy. We all wonder which paintings to put on the fridge, tie shoelaces over and over, and give out so many hugs and kisses lavishly each day.

We are all just moms.

Mom's with full hearts, overwhelmed hearts, tired hearts and excited hearts.

Mom's just wanting to do their job in raising their little ones to be courageous and make a difference, no matter how small or big, in this world.

We are all just moms. On the same team. Fighting the same fight and enjoying the beautiful gifts we have been given.

I am sorry for the days I have labeled you my fellow mom. I'm sorry for trying to "out-mom" you or feeling I could never measure up to you in your mom glory. I'm sorry for not looking at you as team-mate, supporter, and friend.

Because, my fellow mom, whether you are a stay-at-home mom, a single mom, a working mom, or even a mom-to-be, you are just that: my friend. And I promise not only will I start looking at you as such but I will also start supporting you as such.

You are a beautiful, loving, courageous mom. And I am so glad we have each other to do this role of motherhood together.

Editor's note: This article was originally published on Blithe, a Blog. It has been republished here with permission.

The post Hey fellow mom, we are on the same team appeared first on FamilyToday.

To the Mom who stands at the back of the church rocking her baby,

I see you. I see your tired eyes and anxious heart as you gently bounce your sweet bundle up and down, trying to get your little one to sleep, hoping not to disturb the congregation, but desperately wanting to hear the Word the pastor is bringing forth. Wanting to hear the truth that sinks into your bones and resonates in your life.

I know how your morning probably went"¦

You are rushing out the door late for Sunday morning service after a chaotic whirlwind of baths and wrangling three kids into clothes as they scream they don't want to wear "those ones" and then select the mismatched outfit of their choice. You decide not to fight them on this. You head downstairs and see a messy breakfast all over the table (and floor) still. You stare at in despair as you pass by it in your rush to the car to lock all the kids into their car seats and make sure all bags are packed, sippy cups are filled, and diapers are changed "¦ again.

The parking lot is full of cars when you arrive and the greeters have already gone inside. You hurry the kids to their Sunday School classes and drop them off with a quick kiss as you rush back to the sanctuary so you can at least soak in a moment of worship. You find a seat somewhere in between two families while in the midst of the final song and you try and take in the last 90 seconds of worship music. Your soul soars in praise for a moment and then it's over and the sermon begins. You have just settled in and are exactly 3 minutes into the service when the number, the dreaded flashing number, appears on the screen. Your child's number. He's clearly been crying.

You sigh that your bit of respite is over and head back to the nursery. When you see your child's red eyes and tears you quickly get over your sigh and hug your sweet little one close. He just needed you. You thank the nursery worker and head back to the foyer where you walk them around and try to calm them down. Maybe he can still go back to nursery if he calms down. After a while you realize the baby just wants his mama this morning and so you head back into the service, quietly, standing in the back, rocking and kissing a soft, little head, hoping to catch the last few minutes of the service "¦ A desperate clutching of the insight of what the minister is sharing. The need to grow and understand aspects of God that gives you hope in being a woman, wife, mom "¦

And you realize how much you've been missing this time with God. It's not the long sleepless nights or the tantrums during the day that drain you the most "¦ It's the missing moments of prayer, the adoration of praise, the quiet mornings filled with your cup of coffee and Bible that give you so much strength and hope for your day.

How you miss those moments.

Because now you get up at 6 a.m. after an exhausted night's sleep (because there wasn't much sleep) in order to pray and read the Word but somehow the dog heard you, starts barking, the kids wake up, and they want breakfast, you need to do diaper changes, and suddenly your day is in full swing. You stare at Bible longingly next to that cup of coffee you just placed on the table. Maybe at nap time you can get a moment to try and ingest some of its truth.

But nap time comes and the baby refuses to sleep without you holding him close while the other ones want to sit next to you and play with your hair. You try to read your devotional on your iPhone but it keeps getting kicked away by little feet, grabbed at by little hands, and finally surrendered to your toddler for a dose of Daniel Tiger. You will try to spend time in the Word after the kids are in bed.

After a bath, book and bed routine, the kids are in bed but you survey the house that needs to be cleaned, a husband that wants some quality time, any projects that need to be finished. You finally crawl into bed with your Bible pulled up again on your phone and you say a small prayer and read a short verse before your tired eyes give way to sleep.

And then the next day the cycle starts again.

You love your children. You love being a mother. You have tired and weary days though and you know you need the strength of Christ to help you through your parenting. And yet, somehow the tasks of Motherhood itself seems to keep you from even accomplishing the smallest devotional each day.

The thing you need most as a parent seems to be the hardest to reach.

My heart is with you my friend as I see you in the back of the church rocking your baby. And I want to share something with you you may not realize yet. Despite the lack of missing morning devotionals, He is near.

He is speaking to your heart each and every moment. He is showing you so much about His grace and love when you are trying to calm down tantrums and help alleviate little fears. As you teach your little ones simple memory verses, He is reminding you of the amazingly life-giving basics of the Cross. "When we were sinners Christ died for us.." You say it to your 3 year old who repeats it back to you and your heart thrills at the words in the awe of the Savior who died for you. When the baby won't stay in nursery and you take him out to the front entrance where he toddles around rocks and trees, you stare at the bright blue sky and feel the joy of being surrounded in His creation. The times when you sooth cries with cuddles and kisses and you softly sing, you remember just as you comfort your children He is your peace. As you clutch freshly washed hands around the dinner table and your kids recite off the prayers they have learned simply from watching you and you see they are learning to praise their Maker.

In every instance, every offering is a prayer. It is a time spent learning about Him and showing our kids His grace.

Motherhood is a beautiful gift God has given us. It is also a sacrifice of our expectations, insecurities and even sleep as we devote ourselves in service to the calling of Motherhood. And He is in every ounce and second of it. There is complete beauty in the sacrifice.

So while we feel like we may be missing out on the morning devotions and our times in church services, have peace. You are learning, growing, embracing all who He is more than you even realize.

Soon your children will be grown and let go of your hand as they rush off to join their friends in Sunday School. You will sit through an uninterrupted service and be able to spend the mornings in specific prayer time again. But for now my friend, when you have a moment for devotion soak it in deep, embrace the moment, and then remember He is also in the runny noses, the pancake making, and the sleepless nights. And He is teaching you through every moment.

So much love to you,

From the mom who stands at the back of the church rocking her baby beside you

Editor's note: This article was originally published on Blithe, a Blog. It has been republished here with permission.

The post To the mom who stands at the back of the church appeared first on FamilyToday.

I want you to stop. Just stop. And push away the lies and put this thought into your head:

You're not a bad mom

You're not. You really, really aren't.

It's just hard

So much harder than we ever thought.

Visions of motherhood pre-kids include cuddling, and singing, and art projects and dancing in the rain. Real motherhood includes book covers that are torn, coffee tables that are always covered in mini-toys and sticky spilled something, toddlers screaming for an hour "just because," and getting up six times a night to get cups of milk, peel off peed-on sheets, and calm over-tired cries.

It's just hard.

And if you are anything like me you feel like there is something you are missing. Maybe there is a book to tell you how it will be easier. Or a "whisperer" will instruct you on what you are doing wrong. Or you will get an epiphany filled with mothering wisdom.

It's just hard.

And you feel like until you "get" the right formula you are a bad mom. Or maybe not a bad mom but just not a good one anyways. And hopefully some day you will get it right.

It's just hard.

Friends, there's nothing to "get""¦ it's just hard. Hard because we didn't expect it to be. Hard because it's suppose to be. Hard because it's shaping us. It's shaping our children. It's creating all of us into the men and women we are supposed to be.

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame"¦ ~ Romans 5:3-5 NIV

We never want trials and struggles in our lives. But they are there for a reason. Your littles are learning from you how to handle struggle. How you respond and handle this season of hardship affects how they will handle themselves in the future. I really believe one of the reasons parenting is so hard is because it is teaching our children a valuable lesson on how to respond to adversity.

We aren't wonder women

We can't do it all. And it's OK. You aren't missing out on the "right" formula. You probably won't get an epiphany. And there will be days that are easier than others. But you're not a bad mom.

You're just a mom

And mom is a beautiful title.

A mom loves and gives, sometimes fails and tries again, comforts and nurtures, and teaches our kids that life is hard but through Grace we will be OK. And better than OK. Because we have a Great Comforter who is by our side.

We are just moms. And the lessons learned and taught, arms full of hugs, sticky kisses on the cheek, and shouts of "Mommy, I love you!" makes every bit of hardship OK.

You're not a bad mom

It's just lessons of love

Editor's note: This article was originally published on Tammy Moyle's blog, Blithe, a Blog. It has been republished here with permission.

The post You’re not a bad mom … it’s just hard appeared first on FamilyToday.

I should start off by saying I didn't mean to"¦.

It was never something I thought I would do as a wife. I would have rebuked myself if I knew I was doing it purposefully. And yet, as our marriage slowly developed, I began to do the one thing that started to hurt my marriage:

I began to love conditionally.

Let me step back first though"¦

My husband and I had dated all of 6 weeks before our first Valentine's Day together. I had already been whisked up for a weekend in Tahoe to meet his parents, we had already said "I love you!" and we had already discussed marriage "¦ we worked fast folks.

So our first Valentine's Day together was covered in sentimental emotions and became overwhelmingly special. With a full heart and lots of smiles I received roses at work and at home with the most loving cards filled with sweet words, a romantic candle-lit dinner at our favorite restaurant where we adoringly stared into each other's eyes, and then a surprise trip to go see "The Phantom of the Opera" where Zac cuddled me close the whole play. I felt so, so, so loved. It was such a sweet day.

Fast forward to Valentine's Day the very next year. We were newly married and still getting used to living with each other. And I had very high expectations for Valentine's Day. I couldn't wait for all the romantic and thoughtful gestures again from my very loving husband. However, we woke up on Valentine's Day with Zac pretty sick. He rolled out of bed with a coughing fit, went downstairs for a minute, came back up with a bouquet of flowers which he handed to me. "Happy Valentine's Day babe," he sleepily said. Then he crawled back into bed and fell asleep. I was a little disappointed but then grew excited a few hours later when he presented me with a large box. I opened it to find an ice cream maker "¦ and I felt disappointed again. This didn't seem very romantic. I failed to notice Zac's sad look at my response. I just worried about me missing out on "romantic" gestures. We spent the day inside because Zac was sick and I inwardly declared it a miserable day.

What I realize now is I made it miserable.

And then I did it again. And again. And again.

Because I began to love my husband conditionally. I began to love him based off what he did and what hesaid and not because of who he IS.

I didn't look at him unloading the dishwasher as a blessing; I looked at how he put the plates in the wrong spot.

I didn't look at him letting me sleep-in while he watched the baby as a blessing; I looked at the messy living room he didn't clean when I woke up.

I didn't look at the countless hours he worked hard to support us as a blessing; I looked at him not coming home in time to help make dinner.

I didn't look at the hugs and kisses he gave me in the morning as a blessing; I looked at him notleaving enough "I love you" messages on my Facebook wall.

I didn't look at him taking me out to dinner as a blessing; I looked at him in frustration for not wanting to eat vegan food (yes, seriously).

And I didn't look at the way he bought me an ice cream maker (because it was the thing on our wedding registry I said I wanted most) as a blessing; I looked at the missing candlelight and flowers and violin playing in the corner.

I just didn't love. Love the way I ought to love. The way my husband deserved. The way love is supposed to be.

And friends this is just the surface of all I put him through. We won't even discuss the emotional aspects of it all.

We all know "The Love Chapter" from 1 Corinthians 13 but one verse has clearly stuck out to me lately: "Love does not seek it's own (v. 5)."

And oh, how I was seeking my own. My behavior began to mimic my heart. And it hurt him. It hurt me. And because we are ONE it hurt us.

My husband wasn't the problem. He wasn't who I was at war with. It was myself. My own selfish expectations. It became all about ME and not about WE.

And I was so wrong.

Love based on conditions isn't love. If God loved me only based on my actions I would deserve nothing. If people loved me based only on my actions I would deserve nothing. Love requires a lot of grace and zero conditions. And yet we place conditions left, right and center on our spouses, kids, friends "¦ even the stranger at the store.

Unconditional love has no basis. It just loves "¦ and joyfully so. Once I realized what I was doing I asked God to change my heart and my expectations. And to love freely. I will admit that I am still a work in progress but I began to notice when God changed my heart that I began to look at my husband differently. I didn't look at him based on what he did anymore. I just looked on Zac for Zac. And Zac is a wonderful thing.

I said in the beginning of this post I didn't mean to love this way "¦ It just slowly snuck up after expectation after expectation I had. I pray today that you will stop to reevaluate how you look on your spouse, family and friends with love. Let's all drop the conditions and just love with grace. The way the Lord so graciously loves us.

Finally, to my husband, I will say:Babe, I will always treasure that ice cream maker you got me. It is a symbol of you trying to make me a happy and a forever reminder that I looked at love all wrong. Today I will say you have my heart fully and completely. Unconditionally I am yours "¦ And I am ever SO happy to say so. I love you Young Moyle.

Editor's note: This article was originally published on Blithe, A Blog. It has been republished here with permission.

The post When I realized I was loving my spouse conditionally appeared first on FamilyToday.

Today my daughter had her one-year-old vaccinations. Her actual one-year well check was last week but, since she had a cold then, they didn't want to give her any shots. So back to the office we went today "¦ And I will tell you, I dreaded it. Because I knew this would happen:

After a morning rush of breakfast (two different types for picky eaters), getting two babies dressed (my preschooler was harder than my newly termed toddler), packing a diaper bag (diapers, wipes, snacks, cups, oh did I remember hats and sunscreen just in case?!), getting me showered (during my toddler pushed back the curtain while standing on wobbly legs with her mouth full of her brother's waffle she found) and dressed, answering phone calls and setting up an appointment, trying to put shoes on the preschooler who screamed and threw them off, putting shoes back on said preschooler who screamed again and threw his cup, grabbing toddler from rushing out the open front door, where's the keys, where's my wallet, buckling both kids in car seats then remembering I left the shot records upstairs, looking at the time and debating whether or not there was time to unbuckle both kids and pull them back upstairs, realizing there wasn't enough time, so rushing out of the apartment complex.

Then, I realized I went to the wrong exit, swing back around, arrive to the doctor's office exactly at 10 a.m. appointment time, pull toddler out of the car and realize she has made a "muddy" diaper in the short drive, realize preschooler had thrown off his shoes again, buckle toddler back up, put shoes on preschooler, pull toddler back out, rush into the office, ask if I had time to change a diaper before the appointment which was responded back with a sigh and "um, OK" from the attendant, rush into the bathroom and realize there is no change table, try to make a make shift one on the bathroom floor with a change pad, trying to take toddler's cute jumper off but now regretting I decided to put her in a one piece with no snaps, telling the preschooler to please not run the water, to please not touch the toilet, to please not put his stuffed "Lambie" on the floor, trying to keep the toddler from grabbing her dirty diaper, change her as fast as I can, find a mom and child waiting out the bathroom door staring at us exclaiming "OK, now we can go in"¦"

We finally arrive back to the waiting room were we sit and wait. And wait. And wait.

Our pediatrician is usually very prompt but we waited a full hour for only two shots (no weighing, no measuring, just shots). So I spent the next 60 minutes trying to entertain one very bored preschooler and one very tired (why did we schedule around nap time again?) toddler.

I was exhausted.

As we waited, the door to the waiting room opened and in rolled a beautiful red stroller, the top covered with a gorgeous swaddle blanket, and the mom effortlessly pushing it in wearing a light orange blouse that swayed as she walked and a flower (no lie) tucked behind her ear. After she checks in at the desk, she sits down at the bench next to us, lifts the stunning blanket and then I was left speechless as she just stared at her little month-old baby with a huge, loving smile on her face. And glowed. She was glowing.

As I sat there and watched her in all her motherly glow, I meanwhile was uttering, "Landon, get off the floor. Piper, don't eat that. Landon, put your shoes back on. Piper, quit pulling Mommy's hair - it hurts. Landon, I'm not telling you again, please quit pulling on my nose!"

And I was jealous. Huge amounts of envy because I wanted to have that glow. I wanted to just stare at my child and beam with pleasure. I didn't want to be so "¦ worn.

But that's exactly as I felt.

Being a mother is tough. So much tougher than I thought. Like they should pull you aside as a child and tell you how tough it is so you can mentally prepare yourself over the years. I always thought I would be a good mom. But mostly I just feel like I am a shell of what I should be.

Every other week, I meet with a beautiful group of eight women for our "book club." It's a wonderful and therapeutic time to speak as mothers and wife and daughters of God. A few weeks back, as we discussed children growing and the "challenges" that can bring, one of our lovely members said she constantly tries to remember these babies are young, still learning, and to "give them grace" as they grow.

That phrase is one I now keep in my back pocket. "Give them Grace." And not just for my babies, but for me too. I'm learning. I"m growing. I am challenging to so many people in my life as well. I need grace. My babies need grace. We all need grace.

Such a simple lesson and yet the simplest lessons can always be some of the most important.

I may not look at my children every moment of every day with that motherly glow. But I can look at them through the eyes of grace "¦ and isn't that more beautiful anyways?

Editor's note: This article was originally published on Tammy Moyle's blog, Blithe, a blog. It has been republished here with permission.

The post 1 simple thing to remember on those hard parenting days appeared first on FamilyToday.

My dear friend,

Mother's Day is around the corner and I can only imagine the feeling that is slowly growing in your stomach. You love your mom. You love your friends who are moms. You are happy to honor their lives and love on them.

But inside your heart sinks. Maybe a little. Maybe a lot. Because you have been waiting to hold your own child in your arms. You have been waiting to be called one of the dearest words you can imagine: "Mother."

You have been waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And your heart can't handle the thought of waiting any more.

You go through the days trying to hold that hurt back. You pray and hope and trust. You believe.

But I know Mother's Day can be the day the hurt comes to the surface. You smile when you see the moms around you getting simple white roses handed to them at church but you wish with all your heart one was handed to you as well. Because it is not the rose itself but what it represents: the sweet life you have praying for finally being held in your arms.

Friends, I see your hurt. I see your sadness. I see your beautiful hope that shines upon your face as you dream of, pray for, and wait on your baby.

My friend, here is what I have to say to you: you are a mother.

Some women hold babies in their arms, some in their memories, some in their dreams, but all in their hearts. They are all mothers.

The things that make mothers unique are the qualities you already embody: you nurture, you care, you comfort, you love, you help, you encourage, you speak, you support, you trust, you give, you hope. You are all these things.

Today, your baby might not be physically present in your arms, but they are in your hearts, they are in your plans, they are in YOU. They are a part of you. And you are a part of them. You are their mother. And you always will be.

I know Mother's Day will be a hard day for you this year while you are waiting. I want you to know you will have many friends who will be praying for you specifically on this day that you will know the comfort of our Heavenly Father.

But I do want to encourage you in this: this is your Mother's Day too. Your Mother's heart is celebrated. Your Mother's heart is inspiring. Your Mother's heart is just simply you. So I say to you Happy Mother's Day my sweet friend. I love you.

The post For those waiting to be mommy on Mother’s Day appeared first on FamilyToday.

My husband and I met and married pretty quickly. Our first date was Jan. 3 and we were married by Dec. 12. So I guess it was no surprise when we found out we were pregnant that March following our wedding; we liked to work quick!

We were making plans to attend our wonderful cousin's wedding in Northern California and decided we should make a little romantic weekend out of it and spend a few days in Wine Country as well. We were completely surprised when I woke up the day before our trip to a positive + sign on a little white stick, but oh so excited!

I think I was especially excited because it is what I had dreamed of since a little girl! Meeting and marrying Prince Charming. Having a cute little baby with him and becoming the dearest of words: "Mommy." Our excitement overflowed and so did the planning. I am pretty sure Babies R Us saw me weekly if not more. Multiple baby showers in the various states I had lived in were planned. A nursery was designed and set up. Name books were underlined, dog eared and highlighted. It was all I could talk about and think about. I breathed baby all day.

When I was about 28 weeks pregnant, we visited one of those 3D Ultrasound picture studios. With my bare belly sticking up, and friends and family on Skype, thanks to state-of-the-art technology we were able to see our little boy's chubby cheeks and tiny fists floating through his watery home in my womb. Of course I cried. Such a beautiful experience!

The next morning, as soon as I hit my office chair, I emailed out to all my friends, family and co-workers the ultrasound pictures of our beautiful baby boy. Immediately emails and texts came rolling back in saying how cute he was and how they couldn't wait to meet him! And my cup overflowed.

But what I didn't know was there was a woman I had made cry. I didn't know she had been trying for four years to get pregnant. I didn't know she had multiple in vitro fertilization attempts that didn't work. I didn't know she had six miscarriages that she had grieved through in the past few years. I didn't know that my baby pictures I rejoiced over and emailed to her just broke her heart because I could have a baby but she could not.

Days later I was told of her sad news through a friend. I was asked, per her request, not to mention my pregnancy and baby around her nor to send out any more pictures. And, even though I saw her almost daily, I was to not mention my pregnancy whatsoever. And I am ashamed to say I got angry. Here I was, in the happiest time of my life, and I needed to be quiet. I needed to hold my joy. And I felt cheated. Cheated out of the joy of my pregnancy.

But what I didn't realize at the time was she felt the same way: she felt cheated out of the joy of being pregnant. She felt robbed of the chance to have life growing in her womb and being called mom. She was heartbroken. And I had just added to her grief.

Years later, I am now pregnant with baby #3. I have been blessed to have had no complications or real issues with any of my pregnancies. And yet I feel overwhelmed most days to have two toddlers and a newborn on the way. I get frustrated when I can't get into the shower because my daughter won't let me put her down. I get frazzled when I can't make a meal because my son is screaming every time I walk into the kitchen because he wants to do puzzles NOW. I get emotional because I still never get to sleep through the night.

And yet I know that same woman, whose heart I broke, would ache for these moments. She would give anything to feel this wanted or needed as a mother. She would happily embrace all the child issues I take for granted.

I was thinking about Hannah in 1 Samuel chapter 1. She was loved dearly by her husband and yet mocked by her husband's other wife, Peninnah, because Hannah did not have a child. Hannah was taunted and teased. I can only imagine she felt inadequate in her role as a "wife" to produce but more so her heart was in anguish to hold the gift of a child in her arms. And she had a woman close to her, her husband's other wife, constantly emphasize Hannah's lack of a child to her face.

You see what I've come to understand is that infertility is mostly a silent grief. Just as I had, there are women who have dreamed since they were little girls about having a baby and then they have come to the shocking truth their "happily ever after" may never come. Many people don't discuss their attempts to get pregnant or their inability to conceive. Instead they keep trying over and over, month after month, quietly in sorrow for what they might never have. Hope followed by discouragement. Faith succumbed to fear.

I will never know what those who deal with infertility face. Until we reach Eternity, we may never know why someone who wants such a precious gift will never be able to have it. But what I can say to my friend whose heart I broke, and all the other women and couples who have bravely faced infertility for years is this:

You are courageous. You are full of hope and strong. Your heart is filled with a compassion and desire I will never experience to the same extent; however, I pray I will learn from your gifts of patience and trust. I am sorry for not being sensitive to your needs. I am sorry for all the times I have whined and complained about my child's sleep issues or toddler problems instead of recognizing each and every moment as a gift from God. I am sorry if all my stories of motherhood and baby-life have come across as painful jabs to your heartfelt desires. I am sorry for not understanding your pain and grieving with you instead of jealously wanting my joys to be more important than your sorrows. I am sorry for not holding your hand, praying with you, hugging your neck, and telling you you don't have to be silent in your struggle; you are not alone. I will promise to learn from your brave heart to hope and trust and keep on believing in God even though you don't understand His ways. I promise I won't take for granted the gift of my children as I learn from you each and every day what a blessing they are.

Friends, especially mommies, I encourage you today ... you may not know if someone is dealing with infertility. They may keep quiet in their struggle. But let's not be like Peninnah who took jabs and taunted what she had over Hannah. We may not ever intentionally mean to discourage anyone but let us pray for discernment to whether or not our words and actions may hurt our friends who are like Hannah. Instead let's offer loving hands of hope, faith and encouragement to our sisters and friends who bravely persevere on.

This friend that I had hurt with my ultrasound photos ... despite my foolish heart and frustrations against her, the day she met my infant son for the first time, she swept him up in her arms, held him close, began to speak and sing soft words of endearment to him. And I can tell you it was one of the most beautiful moments I have ever seen. For a woman so filled with pain, to show my son so much affection, made me repent of my hurtful spirit and hope somehow my son brought her joy ... if even for that moment.

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