Welcome Aboard the Hot Mess Express!

This holiday season, as I sit amid the hustle and bustle of people preparing for Christmas, my heart feels unusually heavy. While lights twinkle and carols play, the words to Steven Curtis Chapman’s “All I Really Want for Christmas” echo through my mind on repeat, stirring something tender and aching within me. And in the quiet moments between the noise, I find myself wondering what God’s plan for me is.

For those not familiar with the song, it is sung from the perspective of a young boy in the foster care system, penning his deepest desire in a letter to Santa:

“All I really want for Christmas
Is someone to tuck me in
A shoulder to cry on if I lose
Shoulders to ride on if I win
There’s so much I could ask for
But there’s just one thing I need
All I really want for Christmas… is a family”.

The boy goes on to hint at the fact that he knows he is rough around the edges, but if he had “a brother or dad to wrestle with, they could teach [him] how to get along.” The verse ends with the powerful sentiment, “Sounds like the greatest gift on earth would be a mom.”

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a mom… not just in a cute, childhood-dream kind of way, but in a deep, soul-level longing that has lived in me for as long as I’ve understood what love is. I truly believe God planted that desire in my heart long before I even knew what it meant. It’s a yearning that has followed me through every season of my life: through the joy, the heartbreak, the waiting, and the wondering.

The longing in my heart to be a mother runs deep. A lot of it stems from my own childhood, not out of resentment or blame, but from a place of wanting to grow, heal, and love in the ways I once needed. My mom loved me the best way she knew how, and I honor her for that. But like many mother–daughter relationships, ours had gaps and tender places that shaped me. And instead of letting those wounds harden me, God has used them to plant a desire in me to pour into a child with the kind of love, connection, and grace I’ve always dreamed of giving. In His hands, even the imperfect parts of our stories can become seeds for something beautiful.

When my husband and I first started dating 11 years ago, one of our earliest conversations was about whether he wanted children. I remember feeling both overjoyed and deeply saddened when he shared that he did hope to have kids someday. I was grateful for his openness, but I also knew I had to be honest about my own reality: that I might not be able to give him that dream. After much prayer, we decided that we would cross that bridge when we came to it, and decided to get married, with this knowledge in the back of our minds.

Back in high school, I battled an eating disorder, anorexia, that carried its shadows with me into my college years (I’ll share more about that part of my story in a future blog). Those years of disordered eating took a toll on my body, and I began missing my monthly cycles, which sent my hormones spiraling out of balance. For the longest time, I assumed that must be the reason I could never get pregnant. Eventually, my doctors gently told me that conceiving naturally might not be possible for me—and hearing those words felt like a weight I wasn’t ready to carry.

After discussing it with my husband years later, we decided to look into fertility treatment. We sought out one of the best fertility doctors in Cincinnati, who boasted a 95% success rate. With open minds and hearts, we began the process. I hoped and prayed that this would be the answer to so many unanswered prayers and that i would finally get to be the mom I so desperately wanted to be.

At my initial consultation, I told the doctor about my struggle with anorexia, and he ordered a series of blood tests, to see what my hormone levels were at. The results came back showing that I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). In simple terms, I have small cysts on my ovaries that disrupt my hormones, and that imbalance is what ultimately leads to infertility.

The doctor went on to add, that because the symptoms did not manifest in the typical manner (obesity, excessive facial hair, etc), is why my previous doctors failed to catch it. He said that had we caught it earlier on, my journey would have possibly been easier to navigate.

He went on to explain that with a proper diet and the right hormone treatment, there was hope – real hope – that my body might eventually find its rhythm again and conceive naturally. Hearing that felt like a tiny spark of light in a very long tunnel. We began the hormone treatments right away, and I wanted so badly to believe that each new day was bringing me one step closer to the miracle I’d prayed for.

But the diet… that part was harder. After years of wrestling with disordered eating, food wasn’t just food. It was fear, control, comfort, and battle all wrapped together. Trying to follow a structured plan felt like unraveling knots I had tied long ago. I knew what I needed to do, but my mind and my history often made it feel impossible. Still, I kept trying, holding onto the hope the doctor gave me, even when the steps forward felt small and fragile.

After almost two years of trying – two years filled with dangled carrots, disappointments, false positives, and more negatives than I could ever count, and the quiet, painful awareness that time wasn’t slowing down for me, we finally held a small glimmer of hope.

For a moment, it felt like maybe this was the breakthrough we had prayed for. But in a moment of weakness, that hope slipped through my fingers, and I started my cycle on the very day I was supposed to take my pregnancy test.

On one hand, there were so many days when I wondered if that had been my one chance to become a mom, and if, through my own actions, I had somehow ruined God’s plan for my life. But on the other hand, I had friends and loved ones gently reminding me, with equal parts truth and humor, that if ONLY we were that powerful!

I didn’t understand His timing or His plan, but I clung to the truth that He was holding me through every rise and every shattering fall.

But if I’m also being honest, there have also been days – long, heavy days – and sleepless nights when I’ve cried out to God, literally asking Him why. Why women like me, who ache to pour our hearts into a child, can struggle so deeply to conceive… while others bring babies into the world with ease and treat that gift so carelessly. It’s a question that lives in the rawest corners of my prayers. And if I’m being completely honest, some of my pleas to God have included more than a few colorful four-letter words and choice phrases. But I know it’s okay, because He already knows my heart. He understands my broken prayers, my raw emotions, and every messy piece of me. And trust me… I’ve got enough of those prayers to last a couple lifetimes.

During this time, I’ve had countless friends and loved ones gently ask if I would ever consider adoption. And my answer is a wholehearted, absolute yes. I would adopt in a heartbeat. I know there are so many precious children out there longing for stability, safety, and a forever home; longing for the kind of love I’ve carried in my heart for years.

If it were just me—party of one—I’d probably have a whole sports team of little ones by now! But this isn’t a decision I get to make on my own. So instead, I lift those hopes and prayers up to God, trusting that He is the One who moves hearts, aligns timing, and writes stories far better than I ever could. And I’m choosing to believe that when the time is right, He will make the path unmistakably clear.

In the meantime, in my years of being a teacher, God has entrusted me with hundreds of precious little lives, each one placed in my path for a very specific purpose. I’ve always said that while I’m in this season of waiting, listening, and learning to be still through the chaos and noise, every student I meet becomes “my kid.” Past, present, and future, they are all woven into my heart.

Being a teacher hasn’t made this journey easier; in fact, it has broken my heart wide open for so many more children I would adopt in a heartbeat. But even in that ache, I see God’s hand. He keeps reminding me that He is using me right here, right now, to love the ones He’s placed before me, until He writes the next chapter of my story.

And even if He doesn’t, I will trust that He is still good.

Here is my heartfelt response to that little boy (or girl) from the song:

All I really want for Christmas
Is to be there to tuck you in
To be a shoulder you can cry on
And shoulders to ride on when you win
There’s so much I could ask for but there’s just one thing I need,
All I really want for Christmas
Is to be your family….

It’s okay that you’re a little broken, so am I… the greatest gift i could ask for is to be your mom.”