Yesterday was Mother’s Day & I literally felt sorta sick-to-my-stomach all day long. It started off with a beautiful and empowering morning full of prayer in the company of women who were also joined with me at a local retreat event for women. I couldn’t help but feel like an imposter throughout most of the morning. Affirmations and empowering phrases were released through the speakers and prayer warriors of the gift it is to be a mother. And here I was standing with a few other women- possibly feeling the same way I do in the flooded room of real mothers, I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t belong there.
It’s not just this year, but every year that I feel this way. This holiday really does sting. It hurts in ways I don’t even know how to describe. What I thought was processed grief and sorrow somehow resurfaces. It gets difficult seeing all my social media feeds flood with pictures of mamas and babies. If I’m being honest, I wish I was a part of it all. But the fact that I don’t “count,” hurts more than anything else. That even at the end of the day, my mother-like heart still aches for a child that I’ve yet to conceive or if I’ll ever be able to.
In the past years, I’ve always worked hard to fill up this holiday with busy-ness and chaos. I fill it up to the brim that it won’t allow me the time to slow down enough to feel anything. That hopefully, I can finally get through to the end of the day and call it done. It had to have been the longest day of the year so far. Feeling like the scars I have in my heart ached a very familiar pain reminding me of the loss & desire that I’ve had to learn to surrender over and over again.
I know, I know.
God has a greater plan for me. I know that.
I know that He is preparing me for something beautiful and that He blesses me with His peace.
I know that there is a perfect timing under Heaven & all I need to do is wait & trust in Him.
I know all these things.
But knowing and truly believing without a doubt is hard. It’s sooooooo hard. I don’t know if I’m the only one who feels this way. But yesterday, all I felt was cringing in my stomach of having to digest all the genuine love being spread around me towards mother’s and overcome by gradual waves of feeling so sad. Sad that I wasn’t in their shoes. That I didn't have children to be praying and interceding for. I didn’t have children to lift up to God. I didn’t have kids to take me out and celebrate me. It was hard going on about this special day that felt like any other normal day except for the reminder that moms are honored on this day.
I’m sorry if you’re reading this post and it makes you feel sad. Or it makes you feel bad for me. It’s not my intention. I’m sorry if you feel stuck even because you just don’t know what to say or do with the women in your life who are most likely feeling this way but aren’t vocalizing this authenticity. I’m sorry because it’s not that I don’t love and appreciate mothers and women who are blessed with-child. I do.
I’m sorry if it seems as though I’m exerting vibes of envy. I don’t envy anyone. But just felt like I needed to be really honest about the vast amount of women who are extra quiet on this day. The women who like myself, feel like a shadow on the wall in the church, in your circle of friends, and in your community.
But I won’t lie to you. I’ve done this for far too long. I won’t pretend that it was a happy day for me even if so many people conveyed their appreciation for me and gave me the “You’re a mother to all..” spiel. Words go a long way, but on a day like this, they just weigh more than any other day. The fact that I may be a mother-like figure to many, still doesn’t replace the fact that I wish I could feel the miraculous sensations of an embryo kicking from within the well of my belly or tuck a child in and be able to kiss them goodnight. Or that I wish I had an actual obligation to my own little family than having so much free time to only fill up so that I can burn myself down with busy-ness.
I found myself waking up and wanting to just dig a hole so deep that no one would notice my absence. I wanted to hide away from all the celebrations and wait til the day was done. I couldn’t help but carry along with me an armor of protection double the strength around my heart so that I wouldn’t falter. If you resonate at all with all this rawness, then know that you are loved. I’m praying for you and my heart aches for you as well. You are not forgotten. You are not alone. I love you.