28 years. 35 weeks.

I remember how empty I felt on my 25th birthday. I was supposed to have been thirty-something weeks pregnant, but instead I had empty arms, a freshly empty body, and a nursery full of bits of blue with no son to fill them.

It's memories like that, still fresh, that make me thankful for days of fullness. Full arms, a full womb, and a filling home are nothing to take for granted. I'm grateful to experience a pregnant birthday, and we look forward to meeting Portia Liberty in a couple of short weeks.

There are women who you know, who I know, who have empty arms still. Pray for them. It's a lonely season.

Motherhood is lonely too. There's a glaring lack of friendship as we navigate through keeping home and raising babes. Reach out. Be friendly. Show love to someone who needs it.