Every second Sunday in May since 1908 has been a day devoted to mothers.
A day that was intended to celebrate all of the wonderful things that a mother does. For me, Mother’s Day was never really something that I had thought twice about. Looking back, I think I really took it for granted or maybe I was just blinded by my uninjured heart. It was always a day that for seven years was full of love, cards, and homemade gifts. A day where I would wake up to a fresh-made breakfast in bed and get to spend the whole day loving on my children.
But my perspective changed one day in early May, five years ago. I had given birth to my third son on April 27th, 2015. He was a rarity, born with a complex that only happens in 1-400,000. At one day old, he had already endured his first of many expected surgeries. A tiny little fighter, full of strength. But we found ourselves face to face with an unwanted reality. His complex was so severe he would not survive. He died May 6, 2015 in my arms as my husband held on to both of us.
At that time Mother’s Day never even entered into my mind. Well, not until I overheard my husband speaking with the funeral director. I heard him abruptly say, “No, my wife cannot bury our son on Mother’s Day!” With the chaos happening all around me, I had not even realized it was only a few days away. A day that I had really paid no mind too before, but here I was, a mother who was about to bury her baby. All I could think about was how horrid it all was. How could I be celebrated when I felt like a complete failure?
Looking back now, I have come so far. I know that it was not my fault and that God had his hand in this journey before it had even started.
“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I consecrated you. -Jeremiah 1:5”.
But I am not alone in that feeling of failure. There are women all over this world who are mothers, but their children only live in their hearts.Hidden mothers amongst us all.
A mother who bears a strong burden of guilt and grief because all of her children died in the womb. Thought of as nothing more than a failed try when in reality deep in her heart they all had lived. They were hers and she was theirs.
Mothers who delivered their babies, but never got to meet them.
Mothers who have living children, but like myself have one who is missing.
Those mothers who have a surreal feeling of deep love with no place to go.
Mothers who sit back and take in every second because they are not untouched by heartache.
Mothers who feel betrayed by themselves because they have empty arms but overflowing love in their hearts.
A mother who lives in silence and a mother who is haunted by a lifetime of wonder.
I see you, and I am one of you!
This day although it is one to soak up the praises, let us not forget those mothers who are so often overlooked. Reach out and let them know they are stronger than they could ever imagine, and their sorrow is nothing to be ashamed of! They too are mothers. You just may not be able to see all of their children.
