As I’m writing this post, on my heart are my sisters waiting for their babies, the battle-bruised warriors fighting infertility. It’s a beast, that monster, but I’m proud of you (of US) fighting the battle that’s waged war on our lives. Some of the strongest women I know are waiting for their arms to be filled – sometimes with grace and sometimes with a fist in the air, Oreo crumbs in the bed, and mascara-stained pillows. But always with grace. Grace to face the day dripping with grief. Grace to smile at a growing belly. Grace to show up when the celebration cuts like a knife. You’re warriors. You’re jewels. You are brave. You are valuable. You were bought at a price and you are loved deeply and passionately as much as you love your children deeply and passionately.
And you are NOT forgotten.