The Journey through Mother's Days

 Sunday will be the third Mother's Day in a row that I've celebrated being a Mom to a new child!

2014 was my very first Mother's Day thanks to Abby Bette's adoption. 

2015 I celebrated Mother's Day with Abby Bette and my new son, Joshua, also through adoption.

2016 will be celebrated with AB, Joshua, and now Ella, my first child to give birth to. 

 

(Ella is in there, so this counts as a pic of me with all three, right?)

 

It's been a crazy three years. It's been full of cheerios and tutus and stroller walks and board books and so many diapers and bottles and maintaining afros and giggles and fits and a million other little things that add up to a Happy-Busy-Crazy Mama. 

My life looks totally different this Mother's Day than it did just five years ago. 

Mother's Day morning of 2012 had me crying on our cold bathroom floor, clutching yet another negative pregnancy test. I was undergoing my first round of infertility treatments, and I thought it would be really poetic to find out I was finally pregnant on Mother's Day. 

We went on to church that morning, only to sit miserably through a Baby Dedication. 

Later that day, I got three texts from three different friends announcing their pregnancies. 

Mother's Day 2013 was equally as bad, but in a completely different way. A few days earlier, we learned of a baby girl whose mother left her at the hospital after giving birth to her. She needed a home, and we had an approved home study.  

I just knew that this baby was meant to be ours. 

Before I was able to go to the hospital to get her, I learned that DHR had taken over the case and had the baby. Over the next week, I desperately tried everything to get that baby out of foster care and into our home. 

I called every phone number listed on their website and kept meticulous notes of every conversation I had with each social worker. Every person I talked to said they could "neither confirm nor deny that this particular child was under their care." I just wanted to save her from a life in foster care.

I took days off of work and sat cross-legged in my room at home on the phone, calling DHR and adoption attorneys and then even a friend in Montgomery who worked at the capitol. 

I was going insane trying to save this baby, but despite all my efforts I couldn't get to her. I'm telling you, I GRIEVED over this baby and a week later on Mother's Day, I was just a mess. 

A few short months later, Abby Bette would be in our arms, eighteen months after that Joshua would join us, and then nine months after that we would have Ella. 

But in 2012 and 2013, I didn't know all that. I was devastated at the idea of never being a mother. A life without children was not the life I had dreamed of, and I was struggling so hard being content with the beautiful life I did have. 

Re-visiting my past pain is important to me.  It keeps me grateful for these children even when they are all three screaming and when I'm combing vomit out of an afro at 3am and when I've changed the sixth poop diaper of the day before lunchtime and when I can't jog three miles a day because now I'm pushing a monster stroller. 

Even more importantly, reflecting on my time of lament reminds me to keep a compassionate heart for others who are also hurting. 

Infertility was very isolating for me. I wasn't a good friend because I was so jealous. Friends celebrating their pregnancies were scared to tell me because they probably thought the news might be the final push over Crazy Cliff. And ultimately, I just felt lonely.

In one session, my counselor reminded me of the verse from Romans 12 about "rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn." He told me that a good friend can be happy she is pregnant while also mourning with me that I am not. 

This Mother's Day, I hope to rejoice and mourn.

I am going to celebrate my beautiful mama- everyone who knows Sassy D knows that she is the best of the best. 

I am going to celebrate the loving grandmothers that my children are so very blessed to have, our Sweetie, our Mimi, and our Sassy. 

I am going to celebrate my amazing friends who are mothers in the trenches with me. You guys ROCK!

But I am also going to mourn with you who are mourning.

To my friend who lost her baby after just 11 short weeks in the womb, I haven't forgotten- I'm still mourning that sweet little life.

To my friend  whose adoption is being contested, I am afraid and anxious and jittery just like you are. I know this Mother's Day is a scary one for you.

To my friends who have lost their mothers, I'm thinking about you and grieving your loss with you this Mother's Day. 

To my friends who chose adoption for their babies and are missing them this Mother's Day, I'm proud of you and I'm sorry this day is hard.

To my friends who are fostering the neglected, you are my hero. 

To my former students who had babies before they were ready, you can do this, you are strong and you are brave.

To my friend watching her baby fighting for her life in a tiny hospital bed, covered in tubes and monitors, you are a warrior.

To my friends sitting on an adoption wait list for yet another Mother's Day, I'm praying for you and your child who is out there somewhere. I hope you find one another quickly.

To my friends going through infertility treatments, you're not alone- never think you are alone in this.

To my friends feeling left out and forgotten on this Mother's Day, I see you and I'm thankful for you. 

In this culture of railing against what is politically correct and being hesitant to post your opinion because it might be deemed insensitive to a particular group, it's easy to argue that you have every right to post a bazillion pictures of your kids on social media this Mother's Day. And you would be right to do so. I want you to celebrate your children and the joy they bring to your life. 

I hope you will also take the time to reach out to a person in your life that you suspect might be struggling on Mother's Day. Don't be worried about saying just the right thing. 

One time a woman I barely knew pulled me into a bear hug, held me tight, and whispered these words into my ear:

I have cried every tear you have cried.

I have prayed every prayer you have prayed.

I have had every sad thought you have thought.

And in that moment, I didn't feel so alone.  

For anyone feeling the pain that Mother's Day can bring, I speak those same words over you.