The Life I Thought I'd Have

I think most of us carry around a picture of what our lives will look like. We don't always realize we're carrying it, but it's there, tucked quietly in our hearts, shaped by childhood, family, and unspoken dreams.

When I was twelve, my parents had a surprise baby, a new sister. There were already four of us, born within five years. My oldest brother was fifteen, my second brother was thirteen and a half, and my younger sister was ten. 

I got a front-row seat to motherhood watching my mom love and care for my new baby sister. I was fascinated by all of it: the growing belly, giving birth, breastfeeding, the endless laundry, the meals cooked while juggling pre-teens and teenagers, and still meeting my father's needs. She managed it in ways that felt both familiar and entirely new to me.

Almost three years later, my parents added one more to our family: my youngest brother. My mom was forty-two and my dad was forty-three. To me, my little sister and brother were like real-life baby dolls. I loved holding them, playing with them, and then handing them back when they cried. Over the years, my sister and brother often joked that I was their "second mom."

Without realizing it, I was forming my own picture of motherhood. I saw babies, busy schedules, family dinners, carpools, birthday parties, vacations, and the steady rhythm of ordinary family life. I didn't notice the expectations I was quietly writing into that picture.

Years later, when Matt and I would talk about marriage and children, I carried those expectations with me. I assumed pregnancy would come easily. Until it didn't.  

At twenty-five, I was facing unexplained infertility. The picture I had been carrying for so long began to crack. What I thought would come naturally suddenly felt out of reach. That was just the beginning. There would be autism, Down syndrome, adoption, and many unexpected turns along the way, some beautiful and some heartbreaking.

Little by little, the life I had pictured became very different from the life I was actually living. I spent a lot of time looking at the life I thought I lost. 

At the time, I was so focused on the picture I had created that I couldn’t always see what God was quietly doing outside the frame. 

I sometimes wonder what picture Mary carried of her own life before the Archangel Gabriel appeared. Did she imagine a simple life... marriage, children, ordinary days? Even her yes, her fiat, didn't come with details. It came with trust.

Over time, I began to see that one of the hardest parts of our journey wasn't the unexpected turns and trials. It was how tightly I held onto my own picture of motherhood and family life. I hadn't even realized how deeply those expectations had settled in. They had become so familiar that I never really stopped to question them. They just felt normal to me.

In 2015, I wrote a post called I Was Meant To Be An Autism Mom. I wasn't saying our journey had been easy or had unfolded the way I imagined. I think I was finally beginning to understand something I hadn't seen before. Some of the things I once grieved had also given me things I never expected. Relationships I wouldn't trade. Perspectives I didn't have before. Joy in places I hadn't thought to look. 

I know that God didn’t pick me because I was somehow better equipped than anyone else. But I do think He gave me what I needed along the way. Not all at once. I didn't suddenly become more patient or more trusting or know what I was doing. But little by little, through each unexpected turn, He was giving me tools I didn't even realize I was collecting. 

I also sometimes wonder if God was quietly preparing me in ways I couldn't see at the time. Back in college, I felt like I was failing. I was struggling in classes that weren't coming naturally to me, and I remember sitting in an assistant dean's office being told I needed to quit partying and study more. The problem was, I wasn't partying. I was trying. Soon after, I completely changed direction and ended up taking psychology, child development, and family studies classes. For the first time, things just seemed to click. I was doing well and loved going to class. 

Years later, after navigating autism, Down syndrome, therapies, and learning everything I could for my own children, I found myself thinking back to those classes. Maybe it was coincidence. Or maybe God had been giving me tools long before I knew I would need them. 

I don’t think any of us sees the whole picture when we're beginning our journey. But I’ve come to believe that God is already at work in places that don’t make sense yet. And sometimes years later, we look back and realize He had been at work all along.