Preparing for Baby #2: Blending a Family, Marriage & My New Chapter of Motherhood

There are seasons of life that feel like they are asking you to build.

And then there are seasons that ask you to receive.

For most of my adult life, I have been building. Building businesses. Building stability. Building a home. Building a life for my son. Building myself back up after seasons that required more strength from me than I sometimes knew I had.

But this season feels different.

As I prepare to welcome baby number two, plan my wedding, blend our family, and become a wife, I keep coming back to one word:

Restoration.

Because when I look at my life today and compare it to where I was several years ago, I don't believe I arrived here by accident.

I believe God restored me.

Not by erasing everything that happened, but by taking me through it, changing me through it, and eventually showing me that the hardest chapter of my life did not have to become the ending of my story.

Walking Through a Valley I Never Expected

There was a period of my life when the future I am living today would have been difficult for me to imagine.

I came out of a relationship that I experienced as deeply manipulative, destructive, and emotionally devastating. I have described that relationship as being with someone who displayed narcissistic and sociopathic behaviors, and healing from it required me to rebuild parts of myself I didn't even realize had been damaged. I recognized this pain extending back to my biological mom abandoning me and the huge wound it caused me.

Then came another kind of heartbreak.

For more than three years, my son's biological father has chosen not to be a consistently present father in his life.

As a mother, there are certain things you can fix for your child. I made myself a dancing monkey to make him feel safe and stable.

And I realized there are things you simply cannot do and a gap you can’t fill no matter how much you do.

You cannot force another person to show up.

You cannot make someone understand what they are missing.

You cannot manufacture the relationship your child deserves on someone else's behalf.

What you can do is make sure your child is surrounded by love. From yourself and others.

You can make home feel safe.

You can create stability.

You can keep showing up.

And you can pray.

There were years when I felt as though I was carrying everything.

Motherhood.

Financial responsibility.

My businesses.

My son's emotional well-being.

My own healing.

The pressure of creating a future while simultaneously recovering from the past. I began going on park walks and met this elderly man who I believe was an angel in disguise. He prayed Psalm 23 over me in Spanish and English. And God’s word began to take effect in my life.

Looking back now, Psalm 23 feels different to me than it once did.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.” — Psalm 23:4

The verse doesn't say we will never enter the valley.

It says we walk through it.

That distinction means so much to me now.

The valley was never supposed to become my permanent address.

God Was With Me Even When I Couldn't See What He Was Doing

There were times when I couldn't understand why certain things were happening.

I couldn't understand why I had to be the one holding everything together.

I couldn't understand why someone wouldn't recognize what an extraordinary gift it is to be present in his child's life and to think about this precious boy without first thinking about himself. It reminded me of my absent mother. And even when I met her as an adult, there still was no accountability outside of acknowledging herself. No apology and no remorse.

And I certainly couldn't see at that point how any of those circumstances could eventually become part of a story about restoration.

But faith has taught me that understanding isn't always required before moving forward.

Sometimes you just take the next step.

Then another.

Then another.

You build the business.

You take your child to school.

You make dinner.

You pay the bills.

You pray.

You cry.

You wake up the next morning and do it again. The pressure feels large, and the weight on your shoulders is heavy.

And somewhere along the way, you realize that God has been carrying you through a season you thought you were surviving alone.

Psalm 23 begins:

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

For years, I thought strength meant making sure I never needed anything from anyone.

Now I see strength differently.

Sometimes strength is trusting that God will provide what you cannot provide for yourself.

Watching My Son Feel Like Life Is Finally Becoming “Normal”

One of the most emotional parts of this chapter has been watching everything through my son's eyes.

For so long, it was the two of us.

And I need him to know something very important:

We were always a family.

He was never missing the beginning of his family story.

He was the beginning of mine.

He made me a mother.

The two of us built our first version of home together.

But lately, I've watched something shift in him.

He is excited about becoming a big brother.

He is excited about the wedding.

He is experiencing what it means for our family to grow and blend together.

And in his own way, I think his life finally feels a little more like what he sees around him.

More “normal.” He said, “Mom, my life finally feels normal. Well, it will be more normal when my baby brother arrives.” For years he begged me for a brother. And for years he would tell me his plans for what he will do when they arrive, and it is finally happening for him. He had my pinky promise him almost three years ago that by the time he is 10, I will have a baby or adopt. And on the spot, visually seeing his desire for this and his pain being an only child, I pinky promised not having a plan and not even being in a committed relationship, and it just being the two of us.

There are experiences he wanted that I couldn't create alone. And now I get to watch him experience them. There is something incredibly and deeply healing about that.

Restoration Doesn't Mean the Past Never Happened

I used to think restoration meant getting back what was taken from you or even erasing it like it didn’t hurt and wasn’t important.

I don't anymore.

Sometimes God doesn't restore your old life.

He gives you something entirely new.

Psalm 23 says:

“He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.”

He restoreth my soul.

Those words have become incredibly meaningful to me.

Because restoration hasn't meant pretending I wasn't hurt.

It hasn't meant pretending certain years weren't incredibly difficult.

It hasn't meant rewriting history.

Restoration has meant realizing that what happened to me does not get to determine what happens next.

The relationship that hurt me doesn't get to define my ability to love.

Someone else's absence doesn't get to define my son's worth.

The years I spent surviving don't get to dictate the rest of my life.

And perhaps most importantly, the version of me who learned to survive everything alone doesn't have to be the only version of me that gets to exist.

The Self-Love It Took to Let God Lead Me Somewhere New

When people talk about self-love, it can sound like bubble baths, vacations, and affirmations.

My experience of self-love has been much less glamorous.

Self-love was boundaries.

It was accepting reality instead of repeatedly hoping someone would become who I needed them to be.

It was learning that being needed isn't the same as being loved.

It was forgiving myself for staying in situations longer than I should have.

It was learning to trust my own judgment again.

It was protecting my peace.

It was realizing that forgiveness does not require allowing someone continued access to you.

It was becoming comfortable with stability after spending so much time expecting the next crisis.

And eventually, self-love became allowing myself to believe that I could have something different.

A healthy relationship.

A marriage.

Another baby.

A peaceful home.

A family built on consistency.

Joy.

For someone who became extremely independent because she had to be, receiving those things required a different kind of courage.

From Single Mom to Fiancée to Wife

There is a particular kind of independence you develop when you know that ultimately everything depends on you.

Solve the problem.

Pay the bill.

Make the decision.

Protect your child.

Run the business.

Handle the emergency.

Keep going.

That independence saved me in many ways.

But survival skills can become armor long after the battle is over.

Becoming engaged and preparing for marriage has required me to learn something completely different:

I can be strong and still allow someone to love me.

I don't have to become less ambitious to become a wife.

I don't have to make myself smaller to make room for another person.

I don't have to lose myself inside a relationship.

And I don't have to carry every part of life alone anymore.

That may sound simple.

For me, it wasn't.

It took years of healing to understand that love should feel safe.

And Now, Another Little Boy

Then God gave me another gift I wasn't sure life would hold for me.

Another baby.

Another son.

Preparing for baby #2 feels completely different from becoming a mother for the first time.

With your first baby, everything is unknown.

With your second, you know enough to understand just how quickly everything disappears.

I know now that the kicks don't last forever.

The belly that feels enormous will suddenly be gone.

The newborn clothes somehow become too small almost immediately.

The sleepy baby on your chest becomes a child running through your house.

You blink, and the little boy who once needed you for absolutely everything is talking about becoming a big brother.

So this time, I want to remember more.

I want the pictures.

I want the videos.

I want to remember his profile before I've ever kissed his face.

I want to remember watching his tiny hands move before I've ever held them.

I want evidence of this tiny chapter between praying for him and meeting him.

One of My Favorite Parts of This Pregnancy: Little Bellies Spa

One of the sweetest parts of documenting this pregnancy has been visiting Little Bellies Pregnancy Spa in Denver.

I genuinely cannot say enough wonderful things about this experience.

There is something almost impossible to describe about loving someone so deeply whom you haven't technically met yet.

You feel him move.

You talk to him.

You imagine him.

And then you see his little cute face on the screen.

His nose.

His hands.

His movements.

His tiny personality beginning to show itself before he has even entered the world.

Being able to visit Little Bellies and see my little bundle throughout this pregnancy has given me memories I will have forever.

And because I've been able to collect so many pictures and videos of him, I'm documenting a part of his story that normally would have existed only in my memory.

One day I'll get to show him those videos.

"Look. That was you. We already loved you so much, and we hadn't even met you yet."

Little Bellies has given me a way to slow down during an incredibly busy season and simply experience my baby.

Not as a business owner.

Not as someone planning a wedding.

Not as the person responsible for a hundred different things.

Just as his mom.

And those moments have been priceless to me.

A Baby, a Wedding and a New Family—All at Once

There is a lot happening.

I'm having a baby.

I'm planning a wedding.

I'm preparing to become a wife.

We're blending a family.

I'm raising my oldest son while preparing him for becoming a big brother.

I'm running businesses.

And I'm trying to be present enough to actually experience all of it.

The old version of me would have treated this season like another project.

Organize it.

Plan it.

Execute it.

Move to the next goal.

But I don't want to do that anymore.

Because right now, my oldest son is still an only child.

Right now, I'm still a fiancée.

Right now, this little baby is still tucked safely inside of me.

Right now, our wedding is still something we're dreaming about.

Right now, we're standing in this tiny space between the family we were and the family we're becoming.

I don't want to rush through it.

“My Cup Runneth Over”

There is another line from Psalm 23 that feels almost unbelievable when I think about where I've been:

“My cup runneth over.”

There were seasons when I was praying simply for enough strength to make it through.

Today, I'm preparing a nursery.

I'm watching my son become a big brother.

I'm planning a wedding.

I'm preparing to marry someone I love.

I'm carrying another little boy.

I'm watching our family grow.

My life isn't perfect. I don't expect it ever will be.

But my cup doesn't have to be perfect to overflow.

That is what restoration looks like to me.

Not a life without scars.

A life where the scars no longer dictate the story.

Maybe This Is What All the Work Was For

I've spent so much of my life trying to create stability.

Financial stability.

Emotional stability.

A stable home.

A stable future for my child.

But perhaps God was doing something deeper than simply making me stronger.

Maybe He was teaching me that I could walk through the valley without building my home there.

Maybe He was showing me how to recognize peace when it finally arrived.

Maybe He was teaching me enough self-love to stop accepting relationships that required me to abandon myself.

Maybe He was preparing me to love differently.

To receive love differently.

To mother differently.

To trust differently.

To understand that the absence of one person does not mean the absence of God's provision.

And maybe He was preparing my heart for a life I couldn't yet see.

To My First Son

Before this next chapter begins, there is something I hope my oldest son always knows.

You were never waiting for our family to begin.

You were the beginning.

You made me a mother.

When life was hard, you gave me a reason to keep building.

When I wondered whether I was strong enough, loving you answered the question.

There are things I wish I could have protected you from.

There are relationships I wish I could have created for you.

But I hope that one day, when you're old enough to understand our story, you won't measure your worth by who wasn't there.

Look instead at everyone who was.

Look at the home we built.

Look at the people God placed around you.

Look at the family that grew around us.

And know that you were loved through every version of it.

To the Little Boy I'm Waiting to Meet

And to this little boy still growing inside me:

You are entering a story that started long before you.

You are being born into a family that understands just how precious family is.

Your big brother is waiting for you.

Your mom is already completely in love with you.

And there are more people waiting to love you than you could possibly understand.

Someday, I'll show you the ultrasound videos.

I'll show you your tiny face.

I'll tell you about planning a wedding while you kicked inside my belly.

I'll tell you how your brother waited for you.

And I'll tell you something else.

I'll tell you that you arrived during one of the most meaningful seasons of my life.

A season when God reminded me that restoration doesn't always look like receiving back what you lost.

Sometimes restoration is looking around and realizing that God has built something new.

Something healthier.

Something peaceful.

Something you once prayed for without knowing exactly what it would look like.

Psalm 23 ends:

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.”

For a long time, I think I was looking behind me at everything that had hurt me.

Now I'm trying to look around at everything God has placed in front of me.

My son.

My baby.

My future husband.

Our family.

Our home.

The life I've built.

The woman I've become.

I don't know exactly what every chapter ahead will hold.

But for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I need to.

I know who my Shepherd is.

I know what He has already carried me through.

And I know now that the valley was never the end of my story.

This is my season of restoration.

And I intend to be present for every beautiful second of it.

About the Author

Erica Roybal is a licensed esthetics professional, educator, and founder of Denver Dream Medspa and Elite Aesthetics Academy. She specializes in advanced body treatments, cosmetic laser education, and evidence-based aesthetic technologies.