Four years ago, I sat in church and watched as a beautiful tradition unfolded for hundreds of mother's in our congregation. Pastor gave an impassioned speech about motherhood and how it was the world's greatest job. When he was finished, he then asked all the mothers in the room to stand and be presented a long stemmed rose. Ushers moved across the room, presenting women with flowers, commemorating their bringing a child into this world and bestowed the most amazing gift.
I cowered at the back of the room; a slumped, sobbing mess. I gripped The Hero's hand, as he placed his arms around my shoulders. While these women stood to be honored, I fought off the devil in my head.
Our test results had been given to us a few days earlier. Our chances for success in the biological family planning realm were laughable, but I found no reason to laugh. My body would never be able to replicate either pieces of myself, or more depressing, pieces of the amazing man I married.
That morning, I told The Hero I never wanted to go back to church on a Mother's Day. I just couldn't handle having such a visible separation of a life I wanted, opposed to the life I thought we would be forced to live. I was barren, both in the womb and in the soul. My heart ached as my eyes stared not at the women who stood, but the women who were seated. Maybe not all were longing to be mothers, but their presence in that moment confirmed that there was a silent, suffering minority on what is supposed to be a celebration day.
Fast forward to this morning: dishes every where and our house destroyed from toys, clothes begging to be folded and put away and yet we lounge in the glory of celebrating my third mother's day. My heart could not be more full and more grateful for the gifts I've been given. I truly am not worthy.
Infertility is a lying, stealing demon that personifies Satan at his best. It steals our dreams of family, kills our heart's motivation to be happy for those around us and destroys our self-esteem, our relationships and our ability to see the light ahead. While God knows that I understand how hard it is to be standing in an aisle full of Mother's Day cards wanting to throw them all on the ground, I offer you a challenge today.
Stand up and accept the rose.
Whether you are waiting to be matched with a child, suffering from the loss of losing a child, or simply standing at the edge of uncertainty of where to turn next, if there is a child living in your heart, you've already be named a Mother.
Stand up and accept the rose.
No longer allow infertility to stand behind you and whisper his lies. Don't let doubt and fear cloud a day that is meant to celebrate your heart as a mother. If you know there is a child out there that is for you, you may not know how they get delivered to you, but if you're praying for them today, you've earned that rose. When your pastor asks for mothers to stand and be recognized, place your feet on the ground and put your head up high and stand up. Accept the rose.
And if your congregation doesn't offer one, go buy one for yourself. A simple, beautiful resolution for you, that you will not let infertility undo you, you will let it strengthen you to stand and accept the rose.
I cowered at the back of the room; a slumped, sobbing mess. I gripped The Hero's hand, as he placed his arms around my shoulders. While these women stood to be honored, I fought off the devil in my head.
Our test results had been given to us a few days earlier. Our chances for success in the biological family planning realm were laughable, but I found no reason to laugh. My body would never be able to replicate either pieces of myself, or more depressing, pieces of the amazing man I married.
That morning, I told The Hero I never wanted to go back to church on a Mother's Day. I just couldn't handle having such a visible separation of a life I wanted, opposed to the life I thought we would be forced to live. I was barren, both in the womb and in the soul. My heart ached as my eyes stared not at the women who stood, but the women who were seated. Maybe not all were longing to be mothers, but their presence in that moment confirmed that there was a silent, suffering minority on what is supposed to be a celebration day.
Fast forward to this morning: dishes every where and our house destroyed from toys, clothes begging to be folded and put away and yet we lounge in the glory of celebrating my third mother's day. My heart could not be more full and more grateful for the gifts I've been given. I truly am not worthy.
Infertility is a lying, stealing demon that personifies Satan at his best. It steals our dreams of family, kills our heart's motivation to be happy for those around us and destroys our self-esteem, our relationships and our ability to see the light ahead. While God knows that I understand how hard it is to be standing in an aisle full of Mother's Day cards wanting to throw them all on the ground, I offer you a challenge today.
Stand up and accept the rose.
Whether you are waiting to be matched with a child, suffering from the loss of losing a child, or simply standing at the edge of uncertainty of where to turn next, if there is a child living in your heart, you've already be named a Mother.
Stand up and accept the rose.
No longer allow infertility to stand behind you and whisper his lies. Don't let doubt and fear cloud a day that is meant to celebrate your heart as a mother. If you know there is a child out there that is for you, you may not know how they get delivered to you, but if you're praying for them today, you've earned that rose. When your pastor asks for mothers to stand and be recognized, place your feet on the ground and put your head up high and stand up. Accept the rose.
And if your congregation doesn't offer one, go buy one for yourself. A simple, beautiful resolution for you, that you will not let infertility undo you, you will let it strengthen you to stand and accept the rose.
2 comments:
Well put! I suffered for 8 years of doubt and listening to the devil lie to me that I would never become who I knew in my heart I was supposed to be, a mother! But I know that God taught me a valuable lesson in those barren years of waiting and trusting in Him. They were 8 long horrible years but I also learned that the youth that I was "mothering" would never have known me if I had had a child when I wanted to. Look at all of the people who have children now because you took that trip to Africa! You guys are inspiring and blessings!
This is so beautiful. My obgyn thought for a long time that I was not ovulating and then once that was sorted out I found out that I had a bicornuate uterus. It seemed like mountain after mountain was put in our way, but God saw fit to give us a little girl. We are still facing mountains as her health was imperfect in the womb and continues to scare us, but I know that God is in control. Whether by adoption (which is hopefully in our future), biology, or other method (chemistry?), we cannot let a doctor's report steal our joy when God is so much bigger than doctors.
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