Surviving Mother's Day

On Mother’s Day 2002 a dear friend of mine pulled me close and said, “It’s your first, Happy Mother’s Day”. I quickly wiped away the tear that was flowing down my face and smiled as we kept our little secret between us. It wasn’t my first Mother’s Day, but I was hoping that it would be that last one that was sorrowful. I did have reason to hope that the baby growing inside would be safe and I might actually have what my heart longed for. This time had to be different; my heart simply couldn’t take another loss.

The previous year was unbearable for me as I watched the mothers surrounded by lovely flowers and adoring children. Huge pregnant bellies encircled me and mine was empty. I had just miscarried for the second time, leaving me grieving the loss of two lives that I so desperately wanted. I knew that motherhood would be the highest calling I would ever receive. I wanted to honor God and give my husband a baby, and yet my body wouldn’t allow it.

Mother’s Day had arrived and I desperately wanted to stay in bed, but that was not a luxury a young minister’s wife has. Sunday is a day of work for me. I was grieving for the whole congregation to see, I felt their pity on that day especially. My husband and I were quick to share our news when we found out we were pregnant. The loss of our babies quickly spread through the congregation as a much needed prayer request. In that place of deep pain, I found the comfort of being real and refused to wear the mask that most Christians feel like they have to wear: the mask of perfection. I felt in my early years of being a minister’s wife that I was trying to fit a certain mold that I was never meant to fit. I was trying to be all things to all people, eagerly striving for a perfection that did not exist and that was not required of me. What I felt was self-inflicted, unrealistic, and unspoken expectations and my heart needed a break.

While trying to survive Mother’s Day I went to the open arms of my mother, knowing that with her I could have the breakdown that I deserved. Going home to my parents’ farm has always been a refuge for my husband and me; it’s the most beautiful piece of countryside that I have ever seen. The hills and trees in every shade of green was just what my heart needed. A place to feel so small and know that there is a Creator. I needed to go away and hurt in a place where it was safe; I needed to be with my mom. I didn’t think God would mind me needing her so much since she is one of the greatest blessings in my life. I would always be her little girl in need of a mother’s touch and embrace.

As I walked through the door of the guest bedroom at my parents house I was overwhelmed by the love I felt in that little room. On the bed were presents for me and my husband placed there by my sister. On the nightstand was the most beautiful arrangement of lilies in an elegant vase with a purple ribbon placed beautifully around it. Tears began to flow and I had no choice but to let them, my mother quickly wrapped her arms around me wanting to take the pain for her own so I wouldn’t have to hurt. “I don’t want to live anymore, it hurts to breathe,” I said with hot tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t say that,” my mother replied as we wept together. I can’t imagine how that statement must have frightened her, but then again she knew me and my faith in God.

God was ever so near to my broken and contrite spirit just as He promised in His word. The lessons I learned during that time of waiting for what my heart longed for would free me in ways I could have never imagined. I was able to let go of the pain and the idea of perfection to embrace something truly greater; freedom in Christ. God was healing my body through a series of treatments and time allowing my body to be healthy enough to sustain life.

God asked us to step out in faith and move to a new town to minister, I was positive that God would bless us for being obedient. Six days after we moved to Bella Vista, I found out that I was pregnant for the third time. This pregnancy would actually give us our first little miracle. I gave birth to my first baby girl in February and twenty-two months later, another baby girl. They are the little mirrors showing me who I want to be and where I sometimes fall short. Every day I get the pure joy of kissing little miracles, trusting God that He alone will take care of them and lead me in such a way that they will come to the saving knowledge of the God that granted their Mother her deepest desire…to be their Mommy.