There are probably at least a dozen posts you've scrolled past on your social media feed today that will say basically the same thing I am. There are a dozen different ways to say what I am going to say, and these words aren't new.
Yet, I really want to say them anyway.
I really hope you can read this, whoever you are, in whatever place you are, and maybe feel a tiny inkling of hope for your future. Maybe have your heart widened just enough to see that there could be an end to this waiting. To this pain and hurt that you are living with.
You're still waiting for two pink lines. You've just had another fertility test come back with bad results. You've had another failed IVF attempt. You've just learned that having biological children isn't possible. You've just miscarried your first or your second or your third baby before you even got a chance to know them. You've just given birth to your baby born still, or you only had short time with your miracle before having to let go too soon.
I don't know your circumstance currently. But I do know you are hurting. And I know this day that is meant to honor mother's is like a grenade that goes off right in your face at every turn.
If you are going through what I once was, this day is filled to the brim with lots of emotion, and not all of it is positive. Maybe you have an excellent Mama of your own who you are so happy to celebrate, and being able to love and honor her takes away some of the sting this day brings. But maybe you don't. Maybe, having a family of your own is the puzzle piece missing in your life. You feel you have so much love to give that's just being wasted.
That was me. Just a few years ago, I felt like I didn't have a place in this day, even though I knew in my heart I was a mother already. I had two babies not in my arms, but in the heavenly realm. I
felt like a mother but had nothing to show for it; no growing bump, no little one to care for. No proof of the lives that too briefly filled my womb.
I know you understand, whoever you are. I know you feel alone today and that nobody understands your grief, your heartache, your pain. I know you feel like nobody appreciates just how much effort it takes to plaster a smile on your face today, just how much it rips your heart out to look around you to see all the mothers with their babies. How much you wish that could be you. How much you long for that toddler to hang on your leg. How much you yearn to carry a sleeping, peaceful babe. How much you wouldn't mind carrying a few extra pounds around your midsection because it meant you'd grown life. And even how much you envy the gift that too many take for granted.
You wouldn't take it for granted, you tell yourself.
And do you know what? You won't take it for granted as easily. Not really. Why? Because you know what it means to
yearn. You know what it means to wish and hope and pray and
beg for this precious gift. And perhaps you know what it means to hold that precious gift for an instant, only to lose it.
I know it may feel like there is no end in sight to what you are suffering through. It feels like you will always be reminded of what you don't have or what you've lost.
I will tell you this: you will never forget. You will always wonder who your gift would have become, and a piece of your heart will always grieve and yearn for their lives. But I can also tell you that the bitter sting will subside.
Eventually, this pain will lessen. Eventually, you'll start to enjoy life again.
Eventually, you will be able to put into practice all this love welling up in your heart. Sooner than you believe is possible, you will be able to pour out that love on some precious miracle that calls you Mommy.
A little over a year ago, this picture was taken as my husband and I got ready to go on a date together. Its a sweet family picture and makes me chuckle when I look at it because I can remember Daniel and I posing together only to see our toddler run toward us to be a part of the picture, too! She had no room for being left out!
But what isn't evident about this photo is the tiny life - our 4th baby - that was growing within my womb. We walked to dinner that evening and talked about plans for this baby who would become our second child. We felt thankful and blessed and hopeful.
We never dreamed that not even a week after this photo was taken, our fourth would be gone.
I also never dreamed that one year later, this would be our current family photo:
See that bump? That's our 5th baby, our soon-to-be second born. Our son, Blaise Daniel.
Blaise Daniel came to us unexpectedly and at a time when I had almost given up hope for us to grow our family. A time when fear was ruling my heart and I was weary of the infertility process. I was tired of seeing doctors, I was tired of taking tests and guessing what could work for us. I couldn't take any more losses, so I had decided that we may just be a family of 3.
But there was a miracle waiting for us. One I didn't see coming but whose timing was perfect and pure and necessary.
This morning, my growing family and I had brunch at a cafe in our little city of Bamberg, Germany. We came back home where Camden and Daniel had gifts waiting for me. They gave me hugs and told me Happy Mother's Day. My sweet girl gave me an unsolicited kiss and in her little voice said, "Happy Birthday, Mommy!" (We're still working on other holidays!) And all the while, Blaise Daniel has been squirming around and kicking me and his Daddy.
There was once a time that I couldn't conceive of such gifts. That I couldn't dream up a scenario where one growing, healthy, beautiful little girl calls me Mommy (and sometimes Carrie; hello sassy toddler!) and another little life would be steadily growing within.
But I'm living it.
Toddlerhood is challenging. Pregnancy isn't always comfortable either. But you know what? I love it all. I love it because I remember all to well what the yearning felt like, and how deep the wounds go. A toddler with an attitude isn't my favorite but you know what is? The gift of being the one to help shape her heart as she learns how to make sense of her world. Peeing every time I sneeze makes me roll my eyes, but you know what? I
love that my organs are squished and shifted to make room for my 5 pound growing, healthy baby boy.
Do you see now? Do you see that this could be you? Can you see that the stench of grief lifts eventually? That one day, you will know this love and this gift?
I hope you do. And I hope that until then, you take every painful moment in stride, knowing that one day it will all be worth it and that one day, these moments of pain will be distant memories that pale in comparison to the great gift of motherhood.
Happy future Mother's Day to you, dear one still waiting.
Happy Mother's Day to you, dear one who had to let go too soon.
Happy Mother's Day to you, dear one who is sacrificing her body to grow another life.
Happy Mother's Day to you, dear one who is living her dream, finally.
Dear one, the waiting is worth it.
