I Gave Birth To A Child That Is Not Mine.

After years of being told I’d never carry or deliver a child I gave birth to a beautiful 8lb 6oz healthy baby girl. She was conceived naturally and without aid. Her days in the womb were undisturbed and her birthday came according to her schedule alone. I took her home without interruption. I didn’t need to prove to anyone she was my child because we hadn’t been apart since the moment of her birth. According to genetics, law, and society this baby girl was MINE.
But I know in my heart that is far from the truth.

Genetics told me I could not and would not be a mother to my own. No doctor on earth could change that. No amount of hope and love between my husband and I could change that. We knew it, we accepted it. Yet here we are with this amazing child wondering how on earth she got here. Of course we already know the answer…God. There is literally no other explanation.
We could not make life, so he did it for us.

Knowing this has completely altered my perception of who my daughter belongs to. I cannot take credit for creating her, I cannot claim she is MINE. I truly see my child as a child of God, her father, her creator. I am simply the woman he chose to care for his daughter for a time. My husband is the man he chose to care for his daughter for a time. But no, she is not ours, she is his.

There is such a sense of relief in understanding that parents are not owners. We are not life givers, nor should we be life takers. We are people given a great opportunity to care for a child of God. We accept the responsibilities of feeding and clothing and kissing scrapes so they feel better but in the end the well being of these children isn’t up to us. That’s a huge lift of pressure if you choose to see it as such. I know that while I will do all I can to care for this little girl because I love her so much as her chosen parent, God will do even more to care for her because he loves her ever more as her true parent. All I have to do is facilitate that and allow him to parent through me.

Sure I stress like most parents. How am I going to afford all of this? What if she gets sick? How do you even teach a baby how to crawl anyways? But then I remember that God created this little life for a reason and he chose me to be her mother for a reason, so I shouldn’t stress out. I should trust that our true parent will take care of all of our needs in one way or another. I would not let my baby go hungry and I need to always remember that not only is God my daughters true parent but he is mine as well. He is a loving true parent and loving parents provide for their children and kiss their scrapes until they’re all better. So I don’t need to worry about me as a mom or my husband as a father, and I don’t need to worry about my daughter as a child. Our true parent has got us covered.

So yes I carried her inside of me, yes I handled 46 hours of labor (like a champ) so I could be the first person to hold her, but I know despite what all the paperwork says and what all the genetics say, Im happy to have given birth to a child that is not mine.



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