Mother’s Day is always prefaced with the word, “Happy”… what a sweet word, what a sweet gesture, wishing moms a Happy Mother’s Day is what is socially expected, it’s what should be done. It’s what I do, and I want to mean it, today I did, but only because I chose it.
I chose “Happy”… but not without a fight, not without shedding some tears. Sometime’s “Happy” has to be redefined, sometimes “Happy” is fought for.
For those fighting for “Happy” I felt compelled to let you know I “see” you.
And for those who have no idea what I am talking about… if you will, let me help you “see” it.
What about that mom that waited 42 weeks to see her unborn child’s sweet face, only to be told that her “Happy” will be holding his lifeless body in her arms for a few short hours before having to say goodbye?
What about that mom whose child ran away and her “Happy” would just be knowing they are alive somewhere and safe?
What about the children whose mom is riddled with Alzheimer’s and their “Happy” was having her recognize them for a fleeting moment before she slipped away again?
What about the children who ache for their mom because she was taken too early, what if their “Happy” is remembering the person she was?
What about the relationships that are estranged? What’s their “Happy”?
What about the women like me? The women that ache in silence, for fear of being pitied. The women who discreetly watch from a distance as all their friends bring new life into this world, while they are inwardly tormented by the fact that their body doesn’t work right. These women fight back tears as another Facebook friend posts an ultrasound picture, a Pinterest worthy announcement titled “we’re expecting”, growing tummies and shower invitations. Women who wait patiently every month, only to be overcome with grief each time they see one line instead of two. Women who beg to a merciful God to at least remove the desire so it will be more bearable.
For as long as I can remember all I’ve ever wanted was to be a mom. I never knew how much heartache that desire would bring. For 5 years I have watched from a distance, I’ve felt bitterness, anger, despair, hopelessness, contempt, condemnation, fear, hatred, sorrow and indescribable pain.
I have also felt deep joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and an immovable faith has been chiseled out of all that pain. Jesus has never once abandoned me and in all that waiting I have found him to be everything I need and have lacked in my own flesh.
My “Happy” is a choice. It’s choosing joy. It’s choosing to continue to hope. It’s pressing on even when I’m hurting. It’s finding purposeful things to do with my time. It’s looking for ways to bless and encourage others. It’s being present, even when I want to hide.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that I will be a mom some day, it just might look a little different then what I had always pictured.