Seeing Mother's Day from the Other Side

Originally published Sunday, 13 May 2012.

--- Today, in honor of this year's Mother's Day and my current season of life, I am intentionally bringing light to the many women who are going through the battle of loss or infertility. Just as a somber reminder that we are more common than we realize. I did ask my mother's blessing to replace my usual gushing of her with today's post. You can read about how much I adore and love my mother here, here, and here. ---

There is a large degree of hopelessness in infertility, one of waiting and constant disappointment, and it is often isolating.

Last night, after church, I was packing up my things in a side room and my friend Marcy came bursting through the wooden door. "I've been looking for you," she said. "Well, here I am!" I replied with a smile. She held out her hand and in it were two roses. One white and one pink. "These are for you, because you're a mommy twice." I was definitely caught off guard, 1) because I forgot we give out roses for mothers on Mother's Day and 2) because she remembered me.

I gave her an almost-too-tight-hug, said thank you, and she whisked away. I stared at my roses and was overcome with emotions equally split between sadness for my reality and gratitude for my friend.

I know my story is 1/10 of the length and pain some women have grieved and lost. I have a lot to learn when it comes to this new journey of my life, but if there's one thing that has kept me moderately sane it is this: It is fact, the one thing God has done over and over and over again in the bible is opening the barren women's womb.

Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Samson's Mother, Hannah, the Shunamite woman, and Elizabeth. (Mical, Kind David's wife, was the only recorded barren woman who we know for sure did not conceive. She will be getting her own blogpost soon.)

In all these instances, there are moments in the stories when the women lost hope. They gave up. They got to a place where they accepted their reality of being childless, though their longings never wavered. Even through the black and white lettering, I can sense the intensity of their emotions and imagine the weariness in their voices. Probably because I've been there. There's no way that is possible. I can't have babies. I've tried, you can hear them saying.

But God saw them. He saw them in their weariness and He loved them. To some He gave the miracle of children and to others, He didn't. But to all of them, He showed them who He was amidst their pain and sorrow.

And in all circumstances, they saw God and they worshipped Him. Probably not bubbly and excitedly. No, it was more likely to be through the tears of ugly crying, but they worshipped Him nonetheless.

I don't know what your Mother's day holds and what your past ones mean to you, but I know the brokenhearted mother (or mothers to be), are often unmentioned. Not maliciously or intentionally, of course. But as one of them, I wanted remind us that wherever we are today, the Jehovah God, He sees me and He sees you. He knows our names, He knows our pain and He sees us right where we're at. That is a promise.

And, if you are a mother, who has been sovereignly blessed with children, pray for your sweet sisters who are broken hearted today, remember them, and enjoy your sweet (and sometimes crazy) children to the fullest.

Happy Mother's day friends. ~

Reads that have inspired me: