I hate my body.

Or at least that was the thought I had for an infinitesimal moment, as I considered all the ways my body doesn’t look the way I wish it would – because when you don’t have a baby around to remind you that you were pregnant less than six weeks ago, it’s very easy to forget that this is how your body should look right now. And it’s easy to hate that your maternity jeans sag while even your biggest pre-maternity jeans won’t squeeze over the bulge you’ve attained over the past year and a half of hormone treatments and pregnancy. And you just want to wear something more than leggings every once in awhile. And then, for the briefest of brief moments, the thought comes, “I hate my body.”

And then in that moment, it’s as if my body scoffs back, “Excuse me?! What did I JUST do? I’m pretty sure I just grew a BABY.” And it did – it grew a baby for another beautiful couple who so deserve to be parents. And regardless of what it looks like now, or then, or at any point, the fact is, my body works – it works to do what so many yearning women wish their bodies could do. This body has grown five babies and is even now producing milk for that little man that entered the world a mere month or so ago. I can say all I want about its outward appearances, but the truth is, this body has housed miracles. It has been used by the hands of God to do amazing things.

And all these thoughts only brought back the lesson God has been speaking to me for the past five-ish weeks.

He uses all the things we thought were broken or imperfect or just wrong and he makes miracles happen.

I thought I was broken.

When my first child was born and I looked at her in my arms and I tried to consciously will myself to love her. Not because she wasn’t beautiful or perfect or everything a baby should be, but because, if I were honest, something inside me felt broken. That bond that was supposed to be instantaneous felt like it was missing, or would take some time to build. And I looked at her and I tried to feel it and I knew in my head that I loved her so much, but I couldn’t feel it (which may be mostly because love isn’t a feeling, but that’s another story). Over time, of course, it came – that attachment grew stronger and it wasn’t long before I was enamored. But it wasn’t as instinctual as I’d thought it would be.

And for a long time, well, until now, I couldn’t confess that to people. Because it felt wrong – like I was literally broken as a mother.

This was why, as we moved forward with our plans for me to carry another woman’s baby, as so many were concerned that I would bond with this child that was growing in my womb, I wasn’t afraid. That’s just not how I work. But I couldn’t confess that to other women, other women who clearly worked the way they were supposed to, who had bonded with their babies when they felt the little flutters in their bellies. Because my broken-ness wasn’t a banner to wave proudly. I wasn’t afraid and I was glad for that, but I couldn’t tell others why.

Yet, whether it’s normal or not, broken or not, it’s that very part of me, the part that feels wrong, that God was able to use to grow a child for another family without leaving me emotionally crippled or wilting on the inside. And I began to feel like maybe I was actually made this way – and maybe that’s what made me perfectly designed for the task God had for me.

In the same way, I’m not living where I ever wanted to be. I thought I’d come to this small (it was small to me when I came, but now it’s so much bigger than I ever knew) college town, earn my degree, and be on my way. I saw others who came here for school and never left. Well, that wouldn’t be me.

And then it was.

And I kept waiting. I kept waiting for God to call us somewhere else, yet, instead, what he gave us was stability, and roots, and a foundation that has stood stronger than I ever thought it would. And before I knew it, I’d lived here twice as long as I’d ever lived anywhere else in my life.

But at a certain point, even after a decade, I didn’t feel settled – I felt like God hadn’t called us here, we’d just kind of been left behind. And it took a good long while to realize if he didn’t call us somewhere else, maybe we were exactly where he wanted us.

Right where we needed to be to meet a friend who would send a text that would change our lives.

And here I am, on the other side of a miracle, realizing God has used it all. He’s used the broken, forgotten, and flawed parts of me to bring together his plan and his purpose.

His ways are absolutely amazing.