Sunday is going to be my first Mother’s Day with a son, and
the holiday has made me feel reflective this year. For some reason I do not
think of my own role as a mother, but how the people around me feel who have
tried to get to where I am. I love you. This is a letter to my friends who long
to be mothers, but for various reasons are not. Because I am weak, I wrote to
you collectively instead of reaching out individually.
I keep thinking of how hard this Mother’s Day is going to be
for my friends who struggle with infertility or have lost children. I can’t get it off my mind, I obsess daily.
This means I need to say something, but I don’t even know the platform. I don’t
know if you’ll feel what I’m saying is wildly inappropriate and that you’ll
know I just don’t understand. I don’t. I want to tell you how much I love you,
that I pray for your circumstance every day, and I feel some of your pain deeply.
I know I cannot feel it all because it is not my pain, it is yours. Only Christ can relate.
I don’t know if my pictures and anecdotes of my son are hard
for you, I’m sure they sometimes are. I feel your pain intensely. Sometimes I
hold my son and I weep and pray for you. The most deserving men and women seem
to have the hardest time growing their families. Sarah, Rachel, Hannah, and
Elisabeth all spring to mind. I pray every day that your circumstances will change.
May you be a Sarah, a Hannah, or a Rachel one day, as they all saw their prayer
answered. I can’t give that to you because I am not God. I can’t pretend to
know his plan for you I just know what I want his plan for you to be. It’s
probably not comforting for me to say that He knows the bigger picture and has
His best plan for you, even though it is true.
I watch you. I think you handle your situation gracefully,
even though I know it hurts. I love the way you live your life. I love the way
you tackle new adventures and you are constantly doing your best to become the
best person you can be. You took the opportunity to coach people to utilize
their time better. To exercise self-care and live our lives to the fullest.
You were open with your situation and your loss. You
communicated your circumstance the whole time and you let me/us see your
reality. You let us cry with you, even though you suffered deeply personal
loss. You probably didn’t even know some of us were watching.
You took the opportunity to care for other people’s children.
You moved globally and in one nation after another you made the entire world
better. You are always on the move and every place you have set foot his better
for it.
You have taken children born to other people out of desperate
circumstances and you loved them. You provided them the home and love you ached
to share.
You did this privately, yet openly. You didn’t show us to
show us, it is just what you did with your life. You couldn’t hide your
magnificence.
I hope it doesn’t always hurt for you when I share my son. I
share him with you because I love you and I don’t want our different circumstances
to get in the way of our friendship. I don’t want to pretend I don’t know you
are in pain. If it were me, it would be every day. I want to be your advocate,
but sometimes you will have to tell me how.
Please my loves, have a wonderful Mother’s Day. I love you. You are always in my prayers.
Love,
Rachel
