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Yesterday, mothers were celebrated.  Dads went and bought flowers, made brunch reservations, and kids scribbled in cards.  Some moms even got to sleep in (we deserve it once a year, right?!).  My sweet husband let me go on a solo coffee date to my favorite spot.  I called my mom and we chatted without any interruptions.  It was a very warm day here in Georgia, and I sat out on the front porch and sipped my iced coffee in silence.  I felt so grateful and full knowing that I had two healthy, little ones at home.  I’m a mom — a mom!  Such a crazy, emotional, wonderful thing to be.

 

But I have to be honest, I shed a few tears while sitting there on the porch.  Because one year ago, I had never lost a baby.  I had never felt that ache in my heart, the one that starts deep within and makes every part of my body feel weak and helpless.  Yesterday, I thought about my three babies, the ones I lost.  How I wanted to have a newborn in my arms this year, or to be growing a little life in my tummy.  I prayed instead that God would hold them in His hands this Mother’s Day, and that they would know I love and miss them.  How can you miss someone so much — so much it hurts — when you’ve never even met them?  Motherhood is a wild ride indeed.

 

Our pastor gave an encouraging message for mothers, a real and honest message.  He spoke of the heartache that goes along with this day.  He also spoke of the challenges we face as mothers, how we can feel overwhelmed and tired; how we question whether we’re doing enough, trying hard enough, making the right decisions for our children.  How we struggle when it’s time to let them go.  He read from Psalm 121:  I lift up my eyes to the hills.  From where does my help come?  My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.

 

I’m learning, sometimes the hard way, that being a mom is tough.  Any time I try and do it on my own, I feel weary and discouraged.  Any time I think I’m in control, I end up lost and confused.  It’s only been a year, but this Mother’s Day, I feel different.  Loss has humbled me, given me new eyes, and placed a stronger beat in my heart for my children.  I am so grateful that amidst life’s disappointments, God has given me peace and joy.  I’m so grateful that my mom taught me through her own actions to look to the hills, to where my help comes from.

 

I don’t always feel God, but I know He is there.  I don’t always feel joy, but when I cry, He finds a way to comfort me.

 

So, happy belated Mother’s Day.  If this bouquet and chocolate infused day brought with it with some kind of grief or longing, I’m right there with you.  So let’s not try and do it on our own.  Look to the hills, mommas.  They will not let you down.

 

 

To the ones I never met…

 

Even though you never made it into this world, you made it into my heart.  I loved you from the very beginning — I imagined how you might look, the way you would fit into our family.  Would you be a girl, a sister for my daughter?  Would you braid each other’s hair or share a room and whisper to each other after I said good night?  Or maybe a boy, a brother for my son.  You would get dirty together, you’d go on adventures, you’d be best buds.

 

To the ones I never met, you taught me to be grateful.  When I felt pain, when I knew deep down something was wrong, you gave me a new sense of humility — I couldn’t save you — oh, how I wanted to save you.  When I knew that your tiny heart had stopped beating, you showed me that a mother’s love is one unlike any other.  When I sat hunched, hurting, crying out, you showed me that I shouldn’t take my babies for granted.  In that moment you taught me that nothing else really matters in this life.

 

You didn’t live for long, but I’ll remember you forever — the way my heart skipped a beat when I discovered you were there, and the way it broke when I knew you were gone.

 

To the ones I never met, I think about you every day, and I won’t forget you.  I never got to show you off, or see your smile, or smell your sweet baby smell, but I loved you just the same.  I always will.  Through heartache, you gave me a deeper sense of gratitude and joy for my children that I never would have known before.  Thank you for teaching me that my ways are not His ways.  Thank you for helping me learn that it’s okay to cry, to mourn, and then to let go.

 

To my little ones… the ones I will never meet… you are loved and missed.

 

Love,

mom