As I sit and think about being a mom and what that means, I find myself becoming very overwhelmed and emotional. As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be a mom. It was always in “my plan”. I never thought about infertility or about the possibility that things wouldn’t happen quickly or easily when I was ready to become a mom. I remember when we first starting trying to get pregnant, a coworker told me not to get too excited or to start buying things yet because it may never happen. I also remember thinking she was crazy (I was 19 and obviously sheltered). Now that I am older, I realize how blessed I was to have the ability to become pregnant quickly any time I wanted (and even times I didn’t want to!). Then there is that other aspect of being a mom that also never entered into my equation. You know, that part that says everything may not turn out well. Mother’s Day 2001, I was largely pregnant and a little sad that I wasn’t getting to “truly” celebrate Mother’s Day because she didn’t comply with my wishes to be born before that day. Just a couple weeks later, we welcomed our first little girl, Chloe Michelle, to our family. She was perfect. I read all the books but skipped over the parts that were morose and depressing. There was, after all, such a low probability of any of those things happening. So, when a short 4 months after she was born, Chloe woke up in Jesus arms and not in mine, I was ripped apart. Mamas are not supposed to outlive their babies. Babies are not supposed to die when they are still babies…
Now, every Mother’s Day and the following weeks until her birthday, I am assaulted by every emotion in the book. Part of me is depressed and angry and shocked (yes, even now, 12 years later), and the other part of me feels beyond blessed to have three more daughters to fill our home. I try, with the help of many prayers, to focus on the present and not the past. I try to get as many hugs and moments with my girls, and I try not to remember that first Mother’s Day. I try not to dread this day and the feelings that inevitably will come.
This year, across the world from my own Mama and all the other women who took part in mothering me, was hard. It was harder than I expected in many ways and in other ways, a lot easier. This year, I didn’t cry. It is the first year in, oh, 12 years that I didn’t cry. Praise Him! How I wished to give my own Mama a hug though. And how I wished to be able to go and sit by the marker of my Chloe and reflect on how she was the one who made me a Mama. I am so thankful for her and for the moments we had that are forever etched in my memory, and for the promise that someday I will see her again.
All that to say, well, I don’t really have a point to get across. Be thankful. Love where you are and who you have around you. Give your mama a hug. And when you think about it, pray for me. This is not an easy week in my world.