McCarthy - Why Motherhood Matters

To those who believed this message from the beginning to the end and ushered me into an obedient yes, I am in debt to you, and you have my gratitude and friendship. You celebrated every milestone with me as a labor of love and stuck to the end with me, for better or worse.

To the builder, who shows me undying love and commitment and championed me every single, painful step of the way. You are my hero and have given me more grace than I deserve. You told me that God gave you one job when we married 27 years ago, and that was to support and lead me into my calling. Thank you for listening to the Father and living in obedience to Him. This book has your imprint over every page. We are a team, and this book is another product of our love and communion.

To Ruth for seeing this vision and giving me time as I waited on God. Your patience and perseverance allowed every word to find its place, and I will never forget your commitment to teaching me the ropes. You inspire me.

To Hope, a faithful friend, amazing listener, encourager, and prayer partner, your tireless editing and teaching have forever changed my life. You are the real deal, my friend, and I am honored to have walked this journey with you.

To my faithful friends, for checking in, sending notes, praying, and holding me up on days I thought I would never see the finish line, your investment in this book carried me to the end.

To my children, who wrote this book for me in the very essence of life and allowed me to learn more about God and more about motherhood, I am blessed beyond words to walk through life with you. Your help in picking up the pieces of life we had to set aside for a timemaking meals, homeschooling, driving to lessonsand your love and teamwork gave me affirmation that writing this book was the right thing.

To my own mother, who gave me the tools and the confidence to follow my dreams. You loved me well.

To my Father in heaven, for giving me grace along this road. You are my Rock and my Redeemer. You are my story. You called me to this, and I give it all to You.

September McCarthy is the wife to one amazing builder and a home-educating mother to ten beautiful children. She is juggling the stages of motherhood, from adult children to toddlers, and is now a grandma to two more blessings. September writes with a heart of compassion for broken lives and shares hope in her words for women in every season of life. She is the founder and director of the nonprofit ministry Raising Generations Today. She hosts annual conferences and speaks nationally to share the hope she holds onto to daily navigate lifes waters. September holds no claim on having it all together, and writes with a voice and heart of humility and learning. You can find her words daily penned on her blog, One September Day, at www.septembermccarthy.com. September lives a rural life with her growing family, chickens, gardening, shelves overflowing with books, and a project always on the horizon. Her family is her number one priority, and her heart is always at home. She believes in new mercies every day and fresh grace on everyone she meets.

www.raisinggenerationstoday.com

M otherhood was never a dream of mine.

I didnt play with baby dolls or talk about love and marriage, and I never once thought about having a baby of my own. I was the smiling, friendly girl in school who awkwardly dressed like the teacher and created seasonal bulletin boards for my bedroom walls. I listened to eighties music, learned and practiced all the current dance moves, lived on my roller skates, and sold Girl Scout cookies. I just never dreamed about motherhood.

That is, until the day I met my builder.

When we married during college, our thoughts turned toward the future. Our future. Did we want a family right away? We soon discovered that God had a bigger plan. Too many times my womb washed away any new hope I had of becoming a mother. Repeated miscarriages brought reality quickly into focus: There are no guarantees. The day we heard the first faint heartbeat, our hope, once invested in what was lost, seemed to come into focus and settle on something new. Life.

I Was Going to Be a Mother

We were counting the weeks to our long-awaited ultrasound appointment and confirming the new life growing inside me. The waiting room had limited seating that day. I was guessing the woman to my left was as far along in her pregnancy as myself, give or take a few weeks, and the woman to my right mustve been there for a different womens health issue. She didnt pick up the assorted pregnancy and baby magazines stacked on the table in front of us, and she avoided the waiting-room chatter among the women about their due dates. I sat between these women awkwardly, as still as possible, a habit born of necessity, because any drastic movement threatened to heave my insides out and make my head spin until I passed out. Salted crackers and sips of water hadnt cut the nausea, and broken blood vessels around my eyes displayed evidence of my rounds of severe vomiting.

No one ever told me that motherhood would look like this.

It was in the middle of one of those fainting spells when our phone rang. The doctor has a few concerns. Without further explanation or any assurances, the assistant requested that I return for an ultrasound.

So there I was. Called back to the exam room but feeling just as awkward and uncomfortable as I had in the waiting room, and even more isolated in my own skin because of the curt bedside manner and the sterile physical surroundings common in those days. The cool gel they applied to my stomach sent our little girl into a somersault. I watched in wonder as her petite features appeared on the screen and the sound of her beating heart filled the room. I could count the beats; they seemed in sync with my own. Her heart matched my own rhythmsteady, strong, and full of life. Seeing and hearing the big picture was enough to give me the courage to wait for the doctors report.

I had grown to love this little babe that I had already carried for 20 weeks strong. It took a few months for me to relinquish the fear that this pregnancy might also end in a miscarriage; but her body was growing into mine, and I knew she was going to be the first little girl we would hold in our arms.

The doctor asked me to clean up and meet him in his office when I was ready. What did that even mean? I was a shaking, emotional mess in that room all by myself. As I sat on the chair in the corner and slowly redressed, I thought about how the next five minutes might go. The techs are trained to not convey any emotion or indicate whether something might be wrong. It took every ounce of my willpower to turn the handle on the changing-room door and step into the hallway leading to the doctors consultation office.

Motherhood never felt so lonely.

Our doctor was in his last year before retirement. During his practice, he had likely been through this numerous times before. Yet I sensed hesitancy in his movement and noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes. The irony of the human heart played around in my mind. Here I was feeling sorry for this man who was preparing to deliver the most difficult news to me about my baby.

My concern for him disappeared when he not-so-gently handed me the death sentence for our baby in the form of a note to return to the office once we had made a decision. Basically, he gave us the choice to terminate the life of our growing baby or give birth to our little girl who had no kidneys.

I will always remember this as the first moment I ever questioned why.

The waiting room felt a lot different to me on the way out that day. I walked straight through a sea of happy, pregnant women with hearts full of hope, anticipating answers like, Its a girl, and I headed home with more questions than answers. Right at the top of my list was the question why.