The Season Before Her
I knew it. I felt it. I sensed it.
Based on everything leading up to that moment, I knew the breakup was coming. I wanted so badly to outrun it, to pretend we could somehow bend ourselves into alignment, but it felt inevitable. Two very different mindsets were trying to coexist in one relationship, and while differences can be beautiful—healthy, even—the core, the future, the values… those have to meet somewhere in the middle. You might say, “Well duh, Erica, that’s the first thing you consider before getting into a relationship.” And trust me, I thought I did. But too many conversations left both of us with more questions than answers, and on that day, the levers finally snapped. There was no turning back.
Let me offer some more context.
It was early 2023, March to be exact, and I had just finished a business meeting with a guy who was kind of cute, smart, funny, slightly charming, and seemed stable enough to make me raise an eyebrow. At that time, I believed I was ready to date. I had finally healed from a breakup with someone I once thought was my forever, had gone on a few dates the year after, and made some very questionable decisions leading up to this year – VERY questionable. And yes, I was still trying to trust God’s timing for me. I shake my head at myself even now. I was in therapy, getting solid advice about dating and marriage, and I genuinely thought I was in a good place.
When I met him, I didn’t think much of it. But after our first date – he asked me out after our second “business” meeting – something shifted. Then May came, and suddenly we were official. Like official‑official. He asked me to be his girlfriend after three real dates, and honestly, I wasn’t mad at it. I didn’t want to play the dating game the way I had before; uncertainty, mixed signals, anxiety doing jumping jacks in my chest. I was sober about relationships. I had stepped out of the fairy‑tale fog so many women my age live in, and I wasn’t interested in wasting time. I asked the hard questions upfront, and he seemed to want what I wanted: marriage, a future, growth, love, and Jesus. He had to want and have Jesus! It felt almost perfect.
So I thought.
Before we made things official, we had a conversation I will never forget. The topic was sex before marriage, which was something he voiced that he couldn’t wait on. For me, that was non‑negotiable. We both stated our desires clearly, and when the call ended, the conversation lingered. Even though we weren’t on the same spiritual level, I was under the impression that spiritual growth was his desire because he made that known. You know… alignment. But I ignored the truth in his words. The fact of the matter was: he wasn’t aligned. And instead of accepting that, I told myself, No worries, this is just the beginning. I can pull him in my direction. He’ll change eventually. I’ll have more influence on him than he will on me. So many Christian women think like this—walking right past the caution tape God places in front of us.
So I stepped over it and into a serious relationship. And the next month, that influence I thought I’d have? It didn’t happen. Instead, there was a moment… and that moment upgraded my title to “Mom.”
After only a couple of months of dating, I was pregnant.
Our worlds collided because our feelings were nowhere near the same. My immediate fear, regret, and disappointment swallowed his excitement and joy whole. It created tension that shouldn’t exist between two people still trying to learn each other. Though the truth was, we didn’t know each other at all. And suddenly, we were forced into the rawest, ugliest parts of ourselves because of hard conversations and differing opinions about our future with this child.
I shouted, “I’m about to have a baby while being unmarried! Do you understand what this means?!”
At the time, I was active in ministry, vocal about my faith on social media, had just launched LOR as a podcast, and was constantly attending Christian events. Everyone knew what I stood for! Yes, everyone struggles with something, and no, I never pretended to be perfect. And yes, I knew I wouldn’t be the first woman of faith to get pregnant out of wedlock. But mature or immature, we all know what Scripture says about sex outside of marriage. I tried to explain the weight of this to him, but he didn’t understand—because he lived in a different world. His faith walk was ambiguous, and I chose to ignore that. But there was a hard truth to face; at that time, in certain areas and in different ways, so was mine. I just didn’t see it. Not until this journey expose so much in my heart and I had no choice but to present myself before God in a new way – with everything I had been hiding. I had to examine myself, my decisions, what I truly believed, and line it up with scriptures.
Through anguish and fear, I decided to keep her.
I won’t dive into the topic of abortion because I believe God’s grace and mercy extend even when we know better. I made my decision based on what I believe Scripture teaches, my convictions, and my understanding…
Meeting God’s Mercy
*Rachamim (רחמים):
Compassion, tender love, mercy.
*Rechem (רחם):
The singular noun for “womb,” highlighting the linguistic connection between mercy and the protective nurturing of a mother.
“The shared root (r-ch-m) between Rachamim (mercy) and Rechem (womb) signifies that God’s mercy is like the unconditional protection of a fetus in the womb.”
I began to share the news and, to my surprise, everyone leaped for joy. The love, the care, the support; it all came rushing toward me like a warm wave. It was overwhelming in the most beautiful way, and yet, somehow, it made it harder for me to sit with what I was actually feeling. Their joy became a blanket that covered my grief before I could even name it. It made it difficult for the truth to rise to the surface: I was not happy. In fact, I was almost numb. Moving with the current. Smiling on cue. Going with the motions even while still in the relationship. I didn’t realize it then, but I was letting everyone else’s celebration become the thing that pushed me toward the future. I had moments of excitement, yes, but whenever I let myself sit still long enough to feel, a pit would form in my stomach; a twisted knot that stopped me in my tracks. I hated those moments. I didn’t understand what I was supposed to feel when so much joy and support surrounded me.
A couple of weeks after meeting with my pastor and his wife – after being covered in prayer, held with wisdom, and embraced with compassion – I found myself reflecting on all those joyous moments during worship one Sunday morning. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the mercy of God, because I had felt so undeserving. With my hands lifted, whispering my thanks, telling Him how little I deserved His kindness, He responded. Quietly, but sharply.
“My daughter, just because you didn’t get pregnant in past times when you committed the same sin doesn’t mean you deserved My mercy then. I’ve always shown you mercy because I desired to.”
Those words broke me open. They brought me to my knees. How could I have believed I was less deserving now simply because my sin was visible? Because the consequences were public? He had been merciful all along—every time I fell short, every time I stumbled—because He delights in showing mercy (Micah 7:18). I started studying the word “mercy” in Hebrew and discovered it resembled the nurturing womb of a woman. The brilliance and tenderness of YHWH is truly unmatched! That was exactly how I felt during this pregnancy; nurtured, kept, protected, guarded, even with unspoken grief quietly brewing in my heart.
And in that same breath of revelation, I realized something else: despite not truly knowing my child’s father, it was God’s mercy that he happened to be an excellent father. A man who didn’t run. A man who showed up. A man who embraced his responsibilities without hesitation. He supported decisions throughout the pregnancy, even when he didn’t fully understand them. I appreciated his support as it helped me navigate the newness of becoming a mother. But even with that mercy, even with that support, things in our relationship were slowly building toward a breaking point.
The Transition
After that moment with the Lord, something in my prayers shifted. I began praying differently; for myself and for my child’s father. At my mentor’s wisdom, I committed to seven straight days of prayer for him. Seven days of intentional intercession. Seven days of vulnerability I honestly didn’t feel ready for, because things between us were hard. Rough, even. But as I prayed, God began revealing things about him that brought me to tears. I declared scriptures over his life and his future – not just for the sake of our daughter, but for the sake of whatever future we might have had together. And even after this, I still had hope. I even told my friends I felt a strange confidence that he was my husband, despite praying and hearing what I thought was a confusing answer from God. But here’s the thing: sometimes we, as Christian women, think praying for the man we’re with will draw us closer to him. For me, it did the opposite. The more I prayed, the more I longed for true alignment with the person I would trust to lead me for a lifetime. I wanted someone who shared my convictions about topics like generational curses, integrity, addictions, the treatment of others, spiritual growth. And the more I realized we weren’t aligned in those areas, the more frustration grew. And as that frustration festered, I didn’t always behave well. There were words exchanged that shouldn’t have been spoken. Behaviors expressed that shouldn’t have surfaced. I was no saint. And later, even after the breakup, I realized how hypocritical some of it was, and even pushed him away from the faith. But the deep desire to feel safe, connected, and spiritually covered was brewing inside me like a teapot ready to scream.
Then, Baby K arrived.
Through a natural and peaceful birth, she disrupted our weekend – 7 pounds, 7 ounces of pure bliss. I will never forget that moment. It was the happiest day of my life, truly.
In the whirlwind of becoming new parents, we tried to cope. We tried to adjust. But the weight shifted – on both of us. Parenting a newborn while living separately is a heavy, complicated weight. I kept holding onto hope, but the internal tension between us grew into a wedge neither of us could see past. And one day, after going back and forth about something small -something so small it shouldn’t have mattered – he asked a question:
“Have you wondered if it’s this hard because maybe we shouldn’t be together? It shouldn’t be this hard.”
And without hesitation, without even letting the words settle, I said, “I agree.” Because deep down, I knew. We were trying to force something that simply did not fit. We wanted the relationship to work. We hoped for a future together. But our reality was telling a very different story. We spent the next hour and a half agreeing, through tears, through hugs, through sighs of relief, that letting go was the right thing. For peace. For clarity. For the sake of our growing daughter. And in that moment, as the dust settled, I realized an important element: I’m now a single mom…
Looking back, I see how every moment, every prayer, every tear, every revelation, was gently guiding me toward deeper repentance. Not punishment. Not shame. But a continual turning away to walk into the TRUTH. The truth that liberates you, even when it holds a mirror to you first. I didn’t become a single mother because it was God’s perfect will; I became one because of my own choice. But through this, my life was rearranged, in which the weight of His mercy was revealed. And though the journey has been layered with many things (some we will get into), it has also been marked by divine partnership, unexpected strength, and a love for my daughter that continues to reshape me from the inside out. It has stirred a deep well of compassion that feels both new and ancient at the same time. This isn’t the story I planned, but it is the story God is using, and I’m learning to embrace it, one surrendered step at a time.
*Part 3: “What Does In Partnership With God Really Means?“
-PSALM 32:1-2
How blessed is he whose wrongdoing is forgiven,
Whose sin is covered! How blessed is a person whose guilt the Lord does not take into account, And in whose spirit there is no deceit!
-MICAH 7:18
Who is a God like You,
Pardoning iniquity
And passing over the transgression of the remnant of His heritage?
He does not retain His anger forever,
Because He delights in mercy.
Letters of Resignation 
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