“I will be a mother one day, in one form or another. I can’t imagine anything different, because I can’t cope with anything different. And my heart breaks for those of you in similar situations- the tunnel is dark and there’s no visible light at the end. But it’s coming, eventually. And there’s always hope.”
Last year at this time, I was face to face with what Mother’s Day looked like to an infertile.
“There’s a small part of me that’s grieving today as well. I’m trying my best to focus on a celebration of all things Mom today, but there’s that piece of my heart that is black and saddened by the passage of another Mothers Day without the promise of a child.”
I sat idly by as they handed out carnations to all of the mothers at church. I teared up as the opening video extolled the virtues of moms, and one too many photos of adorable bouncing babies passed the screen. My heart ached for those like me, who were celebrating with their own mothers, but who had empty arms of their own.
And this year I’m in a different place.
I remember the brokenness. I remember the bitterness, the pain that came from being passed over on a holiday just for moms. For those who had been successful at what I was failing at so badly.
And yet, I’m celebrating my own milestones just the same.
I crossed the third trimester mark this week, and as baby girl keeps growing, I have softened to the idea of Mothers’ Day. Though I’m not being celebrated at our brunches and dinners, though I’m not *quite* recognized as a mama yet by the general public, I have my own victory to push me through. In three short months, I’ll have a baby in my arms. I’ll be her mama – I’ll have that little piece of me that I know has been missing.
And I can’t help but thank God for the place that I’m at this year. That as a holiday so difficult for many rolls around, I have been pulled out of the depths of my despair.
“For this child I prayed, and God heard my petitions.” 1 Samuel 1:27
To all of you mamas and mamas-to-be out there, have a wonderful day. If you are still struggling, if this post hurts your heart the way that dozens of Mothers’ Day posts broke mine, you are in my prayers.