But things are different for you. Instead of smiles, tears wet your cheeks. Instead of joy, your heart is twisted with pain. You can’t celebrate Mother’s Day. You don’t have children. Not because you don’t want to … but because you can’t.

I know how you feel. I’ve been there.

Nine years ago, in 2008, I got a text on Mothers’ Day that nearly split my heart into two. It was from an old college friend, who I’d just reconnected with. The text itself was innocuous, standard Mothers’ Day fare. Something like:

“Your children will call you blessed …”

What she didn’t know was that I had just had a miscarriage, which I was still recovering from. I was almost 15 weeks pregnant in April, 2008 when I started having severe pain. My husband and I had just celebrated our first anniversary and we were both excited to grow our family. I’m the youngest of four daughters and the sixth of seven children. Throughout my childhood, I’d had an affinity for children and I grew up wanting a houseful, a large family just like the one I was raised in.

I wanted to have children right away, but my husband was content to wait a little. When I got pregnant nine months after our wedding, I was overjoyed.

Yes! Finally! It looked as if all my dreams were coming true.

I couldn’t wait to become a mother. That little plus sign on the pregnancy test held a world of possibilities. Looking at it made me happy, so much so that I tucked it away in a little corner of my bathroom drawer. It was a reminder. A token. A symbol of the joy that I carried in my heart.

Until that day in April, 2008.

My husband and I had gone out for an anniversary dinner on April 21st. Shortly after, I started having severe cramps. It felt like period pain, amplified a thousand times. I woke up early the next morning and water gushed out of me, soaking my pajamas. I remember seeing a pinkish tinge and thinking to myself: “This can’t be good.”

So, we called our OB/GYN and she asked us to come in immediately. I had an ultrasound and even I could see that something was wrong with the baby. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I went into pre-term labor and our son was born at 15 weeks.

Too soon.

I still see him clearly. The tiny body curled in the stainless steel bowl.

He looked perfect. He was perfect. He was also dead.

Oh. My heart. If ever a heart could break, mine broke that day. My son! My son! My son!

I wept. I wailed. I screamed. I raged at God. At my husband. At life.

Then, I learned how to live with pain.

It was the hardest, hardest, hardest thing I have ever done. Moving on from the depression and the pain. But, I learned something during those dark days.

I learned that I could live with a broken heart. And I learned that I could still love a God who didn’t say ‘Yes’ to all my prayers.

But, it was a process. A very long process. So, when I got that text from my friend on Mothers’ Day, it ripped open the barely-healed scars. My wound bled again and the pain was revived. I couldn’t celebrate Mothers’ Day. My dream of motherhood had been destroyed, my son ripped from my body by circumstances outside my control.

So, while others danced, I cried. While they basked in the love of their children, I hid myself in my room and wondered if I would ever become a mother.

Fast forward nine years later, and my Mothers’ Day experience is drastically different. I have three children, who adore me, and I adore them in return. Now, pictures of me surrounded by my adoring kids may be one of those flooding your timeline.

But, I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t forgotten what it feels like to weep when others laugh. I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to dream of holding your own child in your arms.

If you find it tough to celebrate Mothers’ Day, I know how you feel. The tears will come and pain will sting, but hold fast to hope. And as you do, don’t forget that there’s more to life than having children. Find the bigger purpose, find the thing that will keep you going and embrace it.

And maybe, just maybe, your pictures will flood my timeline next Mothers’ Day.

Then again, maybe not. Many women are dealing with infertility to an extent that they may never have natural children. Some may decide to grow their families through adoption and some may not. I don’t have all the answers, but I know someone who does.

God has a plan for you, whether you have children or not. Talk to him today, and trust him with your future.

Stay inspired,

Onyih

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You see, I have always been very self-aware. I knew that there were things I needed to do, ideas I could pursue, more books I could write (I had written two at the time and was afraid or taking another step) and things I could do. But, I had bought into the lie that if there was something great out there it would be revealed to me.

How wrong I was! 

I didn’t need anything to be revealed to me; I simply needed to take a determined step, shaky or not. I needed to wake up from my slumber and chase my dreams.

No sooner did I step into that new zone of ‘wakefulness’ did I discover that I had been held down by resistance all along. You see those things I always thought were not important or valuable? It was resistance that gave me that idea. I couldn’t move forward because resistance convinced me that there was no point.

Have you ever felt this way? When you get ready to do something new, all of a sudden, you’re convinced that you’ll never have the time to complete it. And if you complete it you’ll never be able to launch it. Or you’ll never do a good enough job. Or no one would support you.

We need to recognize resistance for what it is. A marker for the things that are urgent and important. Steven Pressfield says it this way:

"The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more resistance we will feel towards pursuing it.”

And I agree. If it tugs at your heart and won’t let go, then you must do it. Shut down that part of your brain that tells you all the reasons why it may not work. Shut it down. Decide that you will do the work anyway whether the positive results show up or not. Sometimes the expectation of positive results stops us from doing all we can. We give up when things don’t work out the way we expect. But to succeed, we must keep trying, keep aiming at that goal until we hit it.

We’re on the verge of another year. Goals will be set. Resolutions will be made. Don’t ride on the bandwagon of emotional compulsion or useless habit. Make an intentional decision to make this year different. Set goals; not too big that you become overwhelmed and unable to move and not too small that you feel no drive to achieve them. But big enough to keep you energized as you pursue them.

Make it your goal in 2017 to do something big.

And yes, you can.

Remi Roy 

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I'd change Luke 6:27 to read: "But, I say to you that listen, dislike your enemies, do good only to those that love you, bless those who bless you, pray for those that speak well of you..."

Because, that's what I'd rather do! Expend my emotional energy on those that care for me. Every day, I see a ton of memes on Facebook, which are mostly a variation of: "Go where you're celebrated, not where you're tolerated," or "Surround yourself with like-minded people."

There are so many catch phrases that tell us to spurn people who make our lives difficult. That's the human way but in doing so, we resist Christ's command; it's uncomfortable, it's unpleasant and who wants that?

Not me.

But if I ... if we must fully express Christ is us, that's what we should do. Not change scriptures to fit our emotions or the latest trend.

No. We should chase His will and seek His help to achieve it. I know I cant do it on my own, but with God, everything is possible. 

What would you change if you wrote the Bible? Comment below. Thanks for reading!

Stay inspired,

Onyih

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I’ve always kept some sort of diary or journal from when I was in secondary/high school. It helps me stay in touch with myself; my hopes, my dreams, my victories. Last night, I was looking through my journal and I saw an entry I’d made at the beginning of this year. I’d been reading Psalm 119:81-82 and it spoke to me:

My soul faints with longing for your salvation, but I have put my hope in your word. My eyes fail, looking for your promise; I say, “When will you comfort me? Like David, I longed for God to show up in some situations I was facing. This is what I’d written:

My soul languishes for your salvation, Lord! Our hope … my hope is in your word. My eyes fail with watching for your promise. When will you comfort us? When will you deliver us? When will you fulfill your promise? When, Lord? When?

Honestly, I was tired of praying the same prayer for what felt like years. Which of us hasn’t been discouraged by praying for things to change? Yet, the more we pray, the more they stay the same or even get worse?

But a recent incident with my 3 year old son reminded me of a very important principle.

He loves chewing gum and I usually let him have some, now that he’s old enough not to swallow it. Recently though, my sister told me that it wasn’t good for children so I resolved not to let him chew gum anymore.

He didn’t get that memo.

“Mummy, please can I have some gum?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, J. You can’t have any. It’s not good for you.”

“Just a little bit?” and he put his thumb and forefinger together to press his point.

I was resolute. So was he. After five days and maybe a hundred requests, the boy had worn me down with his liquid eyes and beseeching voice. Sometimes he cried when I said no, other times, he simply went about his business. But he knew what he wanted, and he asked for it every day until he got it.

Isn’t that what God says we should do? In Luke 18:1, the Bible says that “Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.”

And when we persist in prayer, do you know what? He will give us justice! Just like it says in Luke 7-8:

“And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly.”

You may be tired of saying the same prayer over and over, but don’t give up! You may not spend two hours speaking in tongues every day, but you can pray on your bed, on your drive to work, when you’re putting your kids to sleep. You can whisper to God, even with a heart full of angst or eyes filled with tears.  God is not interested in the trappings; He is looking for sincere hearts.

Pray on. He will hear. He will answer.

Stay inspired,

Onyih 

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Getting pregnant is one thing. Staying pregnant quite another. I found out the difference one morning in April 2008 when I was about 4 months pregnant. I had been diagnosed with uterine fibroids about 7 weeks earlier when light cramps turned into excruciating pain. At the time, my husband was out of town for work, but I was lucky enough to have my sister with me and she took me to the emergency room. After a long, winding night, I was informed (quite casually by the doctor) that the pregnancy would probably not end in a live birth.

Despite that, the pain lessened after a few days and my hope grew.

Maybe the doctor is wrong about this pre-term labor thing. Maybe the baby will be alright after all. Maybe the pain won’t come back.

There were a lot of maybes, but I believed that God would allow me to have a healthy baby. I certainly knew he could and I hoped he would. But He didn’t.

That morning in 2008, I got out of bed and liquid gushed down my legs. Even before we went to the OB/GYN’s office for the ‘official pronouncement’, I knew. I knew the baby I had carried for 4 months would not draw breath on this earth.

That entire period was one of the darkest in my life and I spent days, weeks … months, railing at God, my husband, the doctors … and my body, which had let me down in such a terrible way. It took a while before I was okay, before I stopped bursting into tears at the sight of pregnant women, before the cry of an infant stopped piercing my heart.

In His time, God has indeed made things beautiful. I have been blessed with 3 wonderful children and I am filled with gratitude every time I look at them. I have also had 3 miscarriages, and each has been devastating in its own way. I never thought I would survive one, let alone three, but God has been merciful and has not allowed my experiences to break me.

One thing that encouraged me was testimonies from other people who were brave and honest enough to share their stories of loss – and eventual victory – with me. In the same vein, I would also like to share three things I learned from my miscarriages:

1.       I had to be okay with God

After my first miscarriage, I was not only devastated; I was also angry. I was angry at God for allowing it to happen in the first place, at my doctor for not doing anything to prevent it, at my husband for being able to move on (or so I thought) after such a short time. I cried a lot. I asked God questions and I raged at him. One day, in the middle of one of my tirades, a question dropped in my spirit, and it literally stopped me in my tracks.

“So, will you stop serving God because of this?”

I stopped my restless pacing, and with tears streaming down my face, I answered – what was to me – a very hard question.

No. I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

There in that moment, I knew that I wasn’t serving God for what I could get out of him, but because I loved him and wanted to please him – whether I had a child or not.

I think that was when I started to break free of the sorrow that had bound me so thoroughly. My anger fled. Though grief remained, it was no longer colored by rage, but by love – my love for the baby I lost and the God who had allowed it to happen.

2.       There is always something to be thankful for

I had another miscarriage in December, 2010. In some ways, that second one was more difficult than the first.

Not again, I thought to myself. Not after everything we had just been through. I couldn’t understand it … and I still don’t. But, I refused to sink into another depressive state. By this time, my daughter was about 17 months old. Just looking at her reminded me of how good God had been.

“If God has given me one child, surely He can give me another,” I reasoned. “And even if He doesn’t, I’m so grateful for what He has already done.”

It was important for me to count my blessings and stay grateful. That Christmas was spent with my sisters and their families and I resolved to relax and enjoy being surrounded by my loved ones. Maintaining that spirit of gratitude helped me keep things in perspective.

Two months later, I discovered I was pregnant. My son’s due date was October 18th, the exact same due date as the baby boy that would have been our first – just 3 years later.

3.       Believe God for something better

By the time the 3rd miscarriage came, I would have called myself a pro – if one can be a pro at something so horrific. The circumstances of that last miscarriage were very traumatic, but once again, I refused to give in. Even though I already had two children, I didn’t want a miscarriage to be my last memory of pregnancy. I wanted a different ending to my story. I believed God for something better. And 4 months ago, God gave it to me.

I now have 3 children, each one a special gift from the hands of my loving Father. I am learning faith from the things I’ve suffered … learning to believe that ALL things truly do work together for my good (Romans 8:28).

What lessons have you learned from the things you’ve been through? Please, share in the comments!

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Title: A Scoop of Love

Author: Unoma Nwankwor

Released: January 30th 2015

Publisher: KevStel Group LLC

ASIN: B00RPI2616

 Genre: Christian Romantic Fiction

About The Book

The oldest of the Danjuma brothers, Rasheed was a self-made man. He’d learned at an early age that love and commitment brought with it complications he didn’t want to deal with. His single-minded focus had paid off. He was able to step into the shoes of his absentee father by taking care of his mother and twin brothers. But just when he thought he could stop carrying the weight of his family on his shoulders, he gets a call that could change the trajectory of Rasheed’s life.

Ibiso Jaja, a professional caterer, had gambled on the love of a man and lost. Through the redeeming love of God, she had picked herself up and was now living her dream as the owner of Bisso Bites, a bistro in the heart of Abuja. However circumstances conspire to threaten the bistro and bring her face to face with the type of man she has vowed to avoid. The attraction is instant.

Once again, Rasheed is forced to do something he has done all his life – put the needs of his family ahead of his own. This time however, he crosses path with the sassy, independent, Jesus-loving caterer who is bent on making him see the power of forgiveness and God’s love. Just when Rasheed lets his guard down, a deadly sabotage causes old demons to rise. Will Rasheed continue to pursue power and success or surrender to the light of God’s love?

About The Author

Unoma Nwankwor is a self- proclaimed romantic. She is passionate about telling stories that are uplifting and life changing sending the message of faith, hope and love. Her readers are in love with her unique way of telling stories that capture the essence of her present home base; Atlanta Georgia and her Nigerian culture. Her stories which center on forgiveness, faith and hope have been described as a fusion of faith, romance and African spice.

Unoma is also the published author of An Unexpected Blessing (2013) , The Christmas Ultimatum(2013) and When You Let Go (May,2014).

Social Links

Website:  http://www.unomanwankwor.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/UNwankworAuthor?ref=hl

Twitter: https://twitter.com/unwankwor

Buy Link

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1BwlGpJ

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1CxctyI

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Losing sucks. Everyone knows that. We all love winning; feeling that rush of adrenaline course through us when we cross that finish line in the lead. We all love winning because it validates our efforts…it tells us that yes, we are excellent at something, we are to be admired and praised. Winning feels good.

Losing on the other hand sucks…and it sucks hard. Except when it doesn’t.

Last year, I got hired on a freelance writing gig for a Christian publishing company and I wrote a couple of stories. Towards the end of the year, I found out that out of the 22 new writers, I (along with two other people) had been nominated for the 2014 Rising Star Award, to honor the best story from the new crop of writers. I was excited and quickly shared the news with 500 of my nearest and dearest facebook friends. Yay! Maybe I would (finally) win something.

Even though I was thrilled about the upcoming announcement, I wasn’t too hung up on it because I was looking forward to traveling for Christmas and spending time with my family. After 7 wonderful days in Pennsylvania, I arrived home and a little anxiety set in.

I wonder if I’ll win. Hmm…I hope I win. That would really rock.

Well…January 5th rolled around, the awards were announced and I didn’t win. I lost. And it sucked.

But then I thought…

“Hey, wait. You were one of only 3 people out of 22. Those guys don’t know you from Adam. All they know about you is your writing. They don’t know what you look like…whether you have an accent or not (I do), whether you’d win any popularity contests (I won’t).

All they know is the words they read on a few pages, and those words were compelling enough to make you stand out!”

So…after that monologue, I reconsidered my loss and decided that it wasn’t so bad. As a writer and new author, I’m encouraged and thrilled at the response to my work.  It feels awesome to have a group of relative strangers evaluate my writing and deem it worthy of admiration.

So, if/when you come up a little short of gold like I did…dig deeper and find something good. Something that will propel you to a new level, so that next time, you’ll be standing right there in the winner’s circle.

Sometimes I wonder though “Who came in second?”

Recent Posts ... Catch Up Here!

I look forward to many more great books from this author - she is definitely one to watch. Find out more about her and read more about her new book.

About Remi

Remi Roy was born and raised in Lagos, Nigeria. Her love of books and reading blossomed into a desire to tell stories. In 2013, shemoved to the United States to study for a Masters in Emerging Media dn Communication.

She has been fortunate to know both the joys of accomplishmentand the confusion of facing a seemingly unclear future; something many people can relate to. AS a result, she loves to write about the unique experiences of young women as it pertains to finding and living their life's purpose. Ms. Unlikely is her first book. Remi lives in the United States with her husband. 

Ms. Unlikely: A Synopsis

Sometimes those who seem most unlikely to get it right, actually do...

Reki Atiba desperately wants a fulfilling career, a significant life or just something she can be passionate about. What she lacks in focu, she makes up for with her boisterous nature and quick wit. 

She meets and starts to fall in love with Debo Martins, a dashing 28-year-old Network Engineer who also happens to have a great singing voice. Rekis is excited about the possibility of a relationship, until Debo commits the ultimate sin; he tries to fix her!

Can Reki look beyond her insecurities and finally face her crippling fear of the future? Will she look to her widowed mother's example and take a bold step ahead? Or will what seemed like a small argument keep her from getting what she wants in life and love?

Set in the metropolitan city of Lagos, Nigeria, Ms. Unlikely is the story of a young woman’s search for meaning, fulfillment and love.

Buy Links:

http://amzn.to/1zeg1WC

https://www.createspace.com/511465

Our God is awesome
He can move mountains
Keep me in the valley
Hide me from the rain

Coincidentally (or not), I had been singing that song all week. It struck me that the valley experiences we fight against may be God's way of protecting us, shielding us from harm or from things we're not yet ready for.

This week, praise God for keeping you in the valley...hiding you from the rain. Selah.

Onyih xx