My last non-Mother's Day

For some reason this year, I have been thinking back to the last Mother's Day before I became a mom. After my parents moved to Chicago in 2000, Mother's Day was hard because I couldn't be near her. The ache of the distance between us gradually eased, although has never left, but another ache quickly took over. The ache of wanting more than anything in the world to be a mommy and not be able to get pregnant.

In 2003, I sat and cried through the entire Mother's Day service at our church because not only was I not near my own mom, but we had just found out about the giant cyst my body had grown instead of a baby. It felt cruel to have to sit there and suffer. I tried with all my might to focus on anything else, but failed. So, when Mother's day rolled around the next year, I wanted nothing more than to run away...to escape from all the glaring reminders that I was not a mom. That year, we not only far away from my mom, but John's mom was out of town. I begged John to take me somewhere for the weekend or the day. Then, I thought about something I had always wanted to do: go horseback riding in Yosemite so I made us a reservation. That day, we packed a picnic and spent a beautiful day in the mountains and riding horses. It was therapeutic for my soul to be away from the constant reminders of the one thing I couldn't have.

If only I could have known that day that the very next year, we would dedicate our miracle baby, Caleb James to the Lord on Mother's Day when he was just 10 days old. There were only a few more painful cycles to endure. Only a few more months to question whether or not we would ever have a child of our own. Only a few more months to question my faith, to torment myself and continue to dream about my baby...the one I so desperately wanted.

When Mother's day rolls around now, I am simply and truly thankful. Thankful not only for my own mother (I think I feel another blog coming on here!) but for my 2 beautiful boys whom I love dearly, and my husband who made me a mommy. There is part of me, though, that doesn't want to forget the pain of the previous years. The pain of the empty arms and longing heart. There are so many women in the world who suffer through Mother's Day. Not just those who have lost their mothers but those who desire to be a mother but aren't. I promised myself that I would not forget that pain so that I would remember to pray for those dear ones who still struggle through this day. Do you know someone who wants to be a mom but can't? Someone who lost a baby to miscarriage, still birth or something else? Pray for her today. Send her a note. Let her know you care. Believe me, it will mean more than you can imagine.