Written by: Jaclyn Kwok

“Behold, I am making all things new.”

These words in Revelations 21:5 speak to me in a particular way at Eastertime, and in this season of my life, God is indeed making my mama-heart new again.

Two months ago, I became a new mom. On February 19th my husband and I headed to the hospital, checked in, and waited our turn. Before long I was being prepped for my scheduled caesarian birth, and the anticipation and nervousness was mounting. An hour after my appointment time, an OR was finally ready for us, and I was wheeled down (seemingly) endless hallways. We passed patients and staff who smiled when they saw my enormous belly and figured out where we were headed. An hour later, I was holding my perfect little boy! My heart exploded with love for this sweet child, and gratitude to the Father for bringing me safely through a challenging pregnancy and surgical birth.

A short two-day hospital stay, and my husband and I were allowed to take our little man home. And that is when my new-mom-ness had to shift a little. You see, Little Man is actually my fourth baby. Two big sisters and a big brother were waiting at home for our arrival. But just because he wasn’t my first baby doesn’t mean I’m not a new mom. I’m just new all over again!

Each new baby has lessons to teach me. I may have experience being a mom, but I didn’t have any experience with being this baby’s mom. I have changed a thousand diapers, nursed ten thousand times, comforted, kissed and cuddled more times than I can count, but those things are all new again, just because Little Man is new. I am certainly more confident now than I was six years ago when I experienced motherhood for the first time, but this is no less exciting or awe-inspiring. Little Man is no less special or cherished than his older siblings.

When I was pregnant with my second child, I worried I could never love him as much as I loved his older sister. How could my heart hold enough love for two children? How could I ever divide my love equally? But as any mom of more than one child knows, a second (or third, or fourth…) baby doesn’t mean a division of love. Love multiplies. It grows. It stretches itself wider and wider, never fading, never thinning. There is always more love to go around!

If you’re expecting a baby who is not your first, prepare yourself for another round of new-mom-ness. Get ready for another tidal wave of love to crash over you! Ask the Father to really allow you to experience all of those new baby things for the first time again. And if you know someone who is expecting another baby, love on them the way you would if it were their first. They may not need gifts of baby booties and receiving blankets, but I’d bet a cup of coffee and a casserole for their freezer would bless them enormously.

As each new baby has entered our family and our hearts, God has renewed us with an increase of love, appreciation, patience, and peace. (And the ability to run on even less sleep!) We get a tiny little glimpse into the Father’s love for each of us. I understand a little better the nature of the Good Shepherd who would leave the 99 to find the one sheep who had gone astray. I understand a little better joy felt by the father of the prodigal son, who didn’t hold a grudge, but rather held his arms open wide as he ran to embrace his son. I understand a little better the love that held Jesus to the cross. And I understand a little better the love of the Father, who watched his son suffer and die for love of His children. Thank you, Jesus, for each of my babies, and the ways they draw me closer to You!


Jaclyn is a grateful wife to Francis, and stay-at-home-mama to Princess (6), Music Man (5), Baby Belle (3) and Little Man (2 months). A former musician, missionary, and youth-minister, she is trying to tame her free-spiritedness just a little, and learn a little more order and routine in her home. There may be toys on the floor and dishes in the sink, but there’s always a cup of coffee and a spot on the couch for a chat with friends. And she’ll even let you hold the baby.


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