This post was originally posted last year… I wanted to share it again this year for those who may have missed it or who need to hear this message again.
For years, I’d dreamed of being a mom. And I didn’t just want to have a few kids; I hoped to have 12 (yes, for real!)
I came from a large family (there were 7 kids in my family) and I loved big families. Plus, I loved the idea of being a mom. So I couldn’t wait to get married and have kids.
Only, life often doesn’t pan out how you would dream. Soon into our marriage, we found out the devastating news that we’d probably never be able to have kids.
So many long-held dreams and hopes died on that day. So many visions of nurseries and strollers and rocking chairs and little feet.
And I cried many, many tears.
We didn’t tell this to many people because it hurt so badly and voicing it just made it more painful. So when someone would say something about us having children — and people made many unknowing comments of that sort in our first year of marriage — it stung deeply.
I well remember that first Mother’s Day as a newly married woman. I was sitting in church and hearing all of the moms being honored and praised. And my heart wanted to burst from how badly it hurt to know that there was a very good chance I would never be able to have kids.
I won’t ever forget what it felt like. And my heart will always hold a special place for women who struggle with the pain of infertility.
Mother’s Day isn’t always flowers and chocolate and handmade cards. For many women, it’s a hard reminder of something that isn’t, something that once was, or something that might never be.
Maybe you’ve lost a child.
Maybe you’re estranged from your mom.
Maybe your child has a life-threatening disease.
Maybe you’ve lost your mother.
Maybe you’re single and longing for marriage and motherhood.
Maybe that adoption you thought was going to go through didn’t.
Maybe you never really had a mother figure in your life.
Maybe you’re desperately longing for a child and struggling with infertility.
Maybe you are estranged from your grown child...
I don’t know your exact circumstances or the burdens you are carrying today. But if Mother’s Day is hard for you, I want you to know this: You are not alone.
I can’t be there physically to hug you and pray with you like I wish I could, but I want you to know that I care about you and others in this community here do, too.
And I would be honored to pray for you — especially this Mother’s Day weekend. If you are struggling and would like extra prayer and encouragement, would you leave a comment on this post or send me an email?
I will individually pray for each of as a small way of letting you know that, while it might feel like the rest of the world is off celebrating, there are people who care about you.
You are loved. You are not alone. You are not forgotten.