I watch my son press his cheek against my belly and fall asleep to the rhythm of his baby brother’s heartbeat.
He doesn’t know what it means to wait for someone you’re afraid might never come.
He doesn’t know what it feels like to long for love and brace for rejection.
He doesn’t know, because I’ve made sure he doesn’t have to.
What he knows is safety.
What he knows is presence.
What he knows is that love is something you give without fear of it being taken away.
When I was three, I was already carrying the weight of things too big for a child.
I was navigating a world that didn’t always feel safe — trying to be good enough to be chosen, to be held, to be seen.
There were no lullabies sung to my growing spirit. No stories whispered over me in joy or expectation.
No sibling bond forming before birth.
But now, I see my son rewrite that story in real time.
He sings to the baby. He hugs my belly and tells his brother he loves him.
He doesn’t just know there’s someone growing — he welcomes him.
And not in theory, but in rhythm. In routine. In song and sleep and soft hands.
It brings tears to my eyes every time.
Because this is the love I never knew — but somehow chose to give.
Not because I had a map, but because I had a vision.
Not because I was shown, but because I believed there was something better.
And God — in His mercy — met me there. Right in the gap between what I needed and what I became.
My sons will grow up in a home where love is normal.
Where softness is safe.
Where connection is not earned, but embraced.
Though I never had that as a child, I get to watch it now.
I get to build it now.
This is the redemption of my story.
This is the fruit of my healing.
This is the legacy I am leaving: love that starts early and runs deep.
The Sacred Work of Parenthood
Becoming a parent is often seen as a biological event — but for those of us who came from brokenness, it is a spiritual re-creation.
It is revolutionary.
To parent with tenderness when you were raised in chaos…
To offer gentleness when you were taught survival…
To build emotional safety when none existed for you —
That is sacred work.
Whether your childhood was full of love or marked by wounds, the work of parenting is a holy invitation.
Every intentional choice — no matter how small — is a seed planted for generations to come.
You don’t have to have had a model to become the change.
You are not just raising a child.
You are raising a new reality.
And with every story you read, every wound you tend, every loving word you offer…
You are proving that the cycle ends with you.
And what about you?
What cycle are you quietly breaking without even realizing it?
What softness are you offering that your younger self never received?
What patterns are shifting because you chose to live differently?
You don’t have to have had it modeled to become it.
Your story can turn, right here, right now.
And maybe—just maybe—you’re already doing the sacred work of healing… even if it feels ordinary.
The proof might be in the lullabies you hum without thinking.
The way you pause to listen.
The way you offer affection freely.
The way you let your children be soft.
These are not small things. These are legacy things.
You are not failing — you are rewriting.
And it is holy work.
“He will turn the hearts of the parents to their children, and the hearts of the children to their parents.”
— Malachi 4:6 (NIV)
A Prayer for the Cycle-Breaker
Lord,
Thank You for entrusting me with the sacred work of parenthood.
Even though I didn’t grow up with what I now give, You are guiding my hands, shaping my heart, and healing my story.
Help me raise children who walk in love, because they were raised in love.
Give me strength to keep choosing tenderness where there was once pain.
Let every seed I plant in my home bloom into generational peace.
Amen.