I get sentimental around this time. It's a divine gift that my little miracle celebrates life during the same weekend I get to celebrate becoming a mother. Six years ago on Mother's Day I wasn't even aware of him. Yet I was oh-so-aware of the absence of him. I prepared myself for yet another Sunday when I'd sit in church and all the mothers around me would stand to be recognized while I would silently sit, hiding my pain and choking back tears.
Six years hasn't been enough time for me to forget the ache I carried. I pray I never do. It makes me mindful that every time I see a miracle enter someone's world that someone else is still praying and waiting and hoping for theirs.
I was never good with kids. I wasn't the sister who played school and ultimately grew up to be a teacher. I was never happy when my mom required my help with nursery duty, something she chose Sunday after Sunday. I was desperately worried that I wouldn't bond with a baby I didn't feel kick. I was concerned I wouldn't love a child that bore no resemblance of me. None of that mattered.
I will never forget the plaque I bought the day the doctor broke the news. "However motherhood comes, it is a miracle." I hung it in the room that would later become E's nursery. I prayed there every morning until he came to occupy it as his room. Then I prayed there every night as I rocked him to sleep.
A baby changes everything. The desire for a baby can too. I don't do anything half-heartedly, so you better believe I threw every amount of energy, strength, desire, hope and a whole lot of prayer into the journey of becoming a mother. My journey wasn't easy. So many times I'd find myself angry or frustrated because yet another person was "accidentally" pregnant or "surprise, we weren't even trying." How could it be so "easy" for them? How could it be so difficult for me?
I've said it before but it bears repeating: I didn't carry him for 9 months but I waited for years to become a mother. Countless charting and testing. No day on the calendar was sacred. It all took on new meaning in the journey that consumed my every thought and action.
I've sat across the table from far too many women crying tears of barrenness, praying for God to grant their request. I've seen miracles through adoption, fertility treatments, and pure acts of God defying all diagnoses. Truly, however motherhood comes it is a miracle.
My miracle is no different, and if you're still waiting, hoping and praying, yours will surely be nothing less.
Today there are some missing their mothers. I think about my Nanny and how much she would adore her growing great grandchildren. I think about all she's missing here only to be reminded that really it's just us missing her here. She would have loved to be a part of our lives still, and yet she's experiencing the purest joy of eternal life.
Today there are some mourning the loss of children they never met. Babies gone before ever breathing their first breath. The bittersweet hope of what never came to be.
Today there are those still grieved with empty arms and wombs. I pray for their comfort and peace. I pray for a loving Father to wrap His arms around them even as they seem to hopelessly wait.
However motherhood comes, it is a miracle. However you're celebrating today, maybe with joy, tears, or a mixture of both, I pray you'll not let this day dictate who you are as His daughter and His child. Whatever title you do or don't bear, you are His and His perfect plan for your life is still being worked out. Even as you wait, even as you grieve, even as you rejoice, He is working out your miracle.
Happy another's Day