Motherhood came swift and fast, much sooner than I ever dreamed. At the young age of 16, dreaming was about all I had experienced. That was until I found myself alone and pregnant, abandoned with nothing but the newfound knowledge of the dreaming now broken.
I can remember like it was yesterday. Her hair was long and dark. When she would lean forward, her soft, silky hair would wash over my face. She didn’t have to. At least not this night. But after a few minutes of pleading before bed, she set aside her “to do” list and gently rocked me for a while. It wasn’t long, but long enough to imprint on my heart the power of a mother. The power of my mother. In that moment, I could nearly reach out and touch her love for me. And I knew then and there that all I ever wanted was to be a mother just like her.
This little girl, all but 16, was soon now to be a mother herself. It was all I ever wanted but nothing I prepared for. Standing in the school office, when my knees nearly failed me, I wondered if they too could hear the news I had just received. A phone call to the doctor’s office confirmed that in an instant, I would now know the same power and love as that of my mother. The test was positive.
Faster than a game of hide n’ seek, motherhood was shouting, “Ready or not, here I come!” If it wasn’t for the fierce love of a mother for her child, I am sure that I would have let the high winds of life carry me down a dark road. But I knew, this child of mine was worth walking the streets of light.
That love carried me through the days to come. Some of the hardest moments of telling my parents and church of my babe in my womb would break way to the greatest moment of my life thus far. There was no hiding, no more pretending. I was in desperate need of a gracious Heavenly Father!
A decision had already been made. A verdict of my guilt. And the blood of Savior who died even before I was tenderly woven together in the secret of my mother’s womb filled in the crevice of my broken heart. Amazing Grace was such a sweet sound. One who was lost was now found.
The child within me grew for all to see. Stairs and school. Stares and cruel. They became my every day. 16 and pregnant is never easy. But as the child grew so did my mother love and the gracious blood that filled in the cracks of my broken heart never lacked to comfort my soul.
The season came when all would celebrate the birth of my Savior. At nearly 20 weeks pregnant, we traveled to my grandparents home far from ours. The grace that covered brought joy to my heart when a girl much too young knew the tender mercies of a Savior out of desperate need. Alone I never truly was. It was there, lying next to a tree fill of light and gifts that I felt the knocking. It was as if my little one was reminding me of the power of a mother, a fierce love like no other would help us not only survive but begin to thrive!
Spring came and life abounded. Until that dark day when a friend’s mother passed away. And as I sat looking at the season called death, the spark of new life flittered about in my womb. Such a paradox coexisted in the same room, a secret that only my baby and I beheld.
It wasn’t long now. A decision had to be made. Adoption was the best decision or so they said. Who was I at a tender age of just 16, my only life experience the shattering of a broken dream, prepared to protect and care for a life not my own? Only the fiercest love of a mother could face the coming days and the decision that would haunt my heart till the end of my days. A desperate prayer and a whispered answer set my heart at ease as He gifted the peace for all too soon, my little one would be my own.
The days grew long as my tummy grew round. And the same Savior who saved my soul gifted me a community to take away my aloneness. School finals came and went when the day came to set eyes on the one who awakened my mother love.
As the contraction waves ebbed and flowed, it was as if my body was aching from the breaking within. It wasn’t right, meeting him alone. My body defied me as I scolded it for the unveiling of my broken heart. The pain consuming and as I plunged into the deep, the fight to embrace the pain was far more than just to welcome my baby. To move forward, I must embrace the pain, the aloneness of single motherhood. A title I never coveted and certainly never wanted. And with one final push, we were on the other side. The pain left for another day. The broken made whole. The crashing of the waves made calm. And at first site, my heart soared. He was worth it. Motherhood is always worth it!