Life isn’t a Hallmark commercial.
I think that’s why I found myself crying while folding the laundry and half-watching the television. The Mother’s Day commercials that usually leave me saying “Aww” have left a bittersweet taste in my mouth this year. For the first time, I understand what so many other women feel about just skipping the day all together. The day just serves as a reminder of what could’ve been.
Now, I know what you’re thinking–that I’m dwelling in the land of have-nots instead of remembering the blessings I have under my roof. But I’m not dwelling there. Sometimes, my mind just seems to peek over the fence for a while when I think about the empty chair at the kitchen table. You see, I realized that every first milestone I pass on the freshly paved road of grief will be be a little painful this year.
Mother’s Day just so happens to be my first hurdle.
I could say the things like “Every day is Mother’s Day” and other little platitudes, but that would be a load of bologna. Yes, I’m a mother and every day is, in fact, Mother’s Day, but then we go and place a special day on the calendar to celebrate. Then, we schedule baby dedications and bring the kids in from children’s church to hand out roses to their mommies.
This is the first year I understand how extremely painful this holiday can be.
I would’ve been 19 weeks by now. Just a week away from finding out if I’d be buying pink or using hand-me-downs from two big brothers. Most likely, I would be feeling the flutters of movement by now–just our little secret until the kicks got big enough to feel from the outside.
And it hurts.
I don’t want to dwell on the things that never will be for this child, because really, I could be in mourning every day for the rest of my life if I did. But, certain things just can’t be ignored or stuffed down deep. Certain things have to be mourned. So today, I give myself permission to feel because that’s where the healing begins.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3