Mother's Day

I always enjoyed mother's day growing up, and even as an adult without children. It was always nice to spend a day recognizing my mom and grandmas, and showering them with love, thanks, cards, and gifts. I never minded not getting the little flower pots handed out at church for the moms, even when I wanted kids of my own. I never minded it, because I still enjoyed celebrating my mom and grandmas, and I looked forward to the day I could celebrate it myself.

My first mother's day as a foster mom was beautiful. We had our sweet little girl we were told we would adopt. Having this beautiful child in my life redefined mother's day for me. It was beautiful, and I was filled with gratitude for the privilege of having this sweet baby in my care. Soon after, we got our adorable son we were told we would adopt too. The weather was even extra hot that spring, so it was totally my kind of spring too. Everything just seemed right. That whole spring was the sweetest spring of my entire life.

When we lost our children to their severely abusive families, life was never really the same. Unlike death, you know they are still suffering somewhere, and you can't do a single thing about it. You constantly think about them and wonder if they are ok. You know they don't understand why you couldn't keep them with you, and wonder if they think it was their fault. You wonder if they even remember you, and if they do, if it brings joy or pain for them to think of you. You wonder what they are going through, are they warm at night, are they getting any form of healthy love. Sometimes you wonder if they are even still alive. You long to hold them close and tell them how much you love them, how special they are, and how much they are loved and deserve love, but you can't.

My perspective of mother's day changed. I became so filled with grief, pain, and agony, that any extra reminder of my loss as a mother was more than I could handle. I went from being a mother of many, to not a mother at all. People didn't recognize me as a mother anymore. I started hiding away on mother's day. I wouldn't go to church, or out to eat even, because everywhere I went was all about mother's day. I spent the first one hiding out in my yard working in my garden and flowerbeds, hoping the work would keep my mind off of the agony of the day. My mother's day present from my husband was all the stuff I needed to be out there doing that work (it was what I asked for).

The second mother's day was our last Sunday we were supposed to help out with music at our church before moving away, so I had to face my pain and go. When we got in the sanctuary to get ready to start the music, they played a mother's day video recognizing all of the moms. I couldn't even look at the screen, and started crying. I managed to force myself to pull it together, so I could still lead in the singing after the video was done playing. I told myself, “It's ok, it's over, recognition of the day is done, you'll be ok. You can do this. Don't fall apart now. It's done.” I repeated these things to myself in my mind as I headed up with the team to lead people in worship through songs. But then it happened, there was a break in the music, and yet another video was played. I couldn't believe that they would play another video with me up on the platform in front of everyone...Someone did not think that one through at all. I immediately started just looking at the floor and biting my lip in an effort to stop myself from crying. I tried to think of other things. I think I bit my lip so hard it was bleeding. I really struggled pulling through those last few songs without breaking down. But, I somehow held it together and got through it... Not without a few cracks in my voice, but I got through it. After making it through that horrible service, I faced another fear and went out to lunch with my parents, because I wanted to still recognize this special day for my mom and was already out. There, I was again reminded that I was no longer viewed as a mother by others, and all of the loss turned to anger and frustration. The waitress came and looked only at my mom and said, “Any mother's at this table get a free coupon book!” She handed it to my mom and started to walk away. I couldn't hold in the frustration anymore, and said, “I am a mother too.” Then the poor girl felt bad, and handed me a booklet while apologizing to me. I told her it was ok, but after that, I was more than ready to leave that place and get away from everyone. I cried a lot that day.

This mother's day, although we have had many foster children since that first experience, and have experienced new pain and loss since, I still struggle. And the truth is, I still mainly struggle over those first two we were told we would adopt, but instead had to watch them go back to suffering. I have another sweet little one with me this time, and love her in a way I never thought I was capable of again. It scares me. People wonder why I can't just freely enjoy the time given with her without worry or fear, but if they understood the loss and pain I've endured from letting myself love so deeply, then watching the system fail time and time again, I think they would be a little more understanding. I don't have adopted kids or biological kids still here when my foster children leave. We go from a full house of love to an empty house. There is no in between for us. I am here still wanting to skip church, still wanting to stay home, still wanting to just work on new flowerbeds and gardens to avoid the crowd. To avoid the constant reminders of the loss and pain. I love being with this sweet little one, but now mother's day also reminds me of my fear of losing this one to a horrible situation just like before.

Ladies, whether you are a mother of many children, a mother of grown children who won't be around this year, a mother who has lost their sweet precious little ones, a mother struggling to get pregnant, a mother who has suffered miscarriages, YOU are still a mother. You are not alone. We are here with you. We may be silently suffering along side you, but we are still here with you. God hears our lonely broken cries, and He is right here beside us. It's ok to ask Him to hold you through this. His peace is there. I would not have survived this far without Him. You are not alone. We are not alone.

Ministers, pastors, and priests, you need to recognize the pain going on within the church (the people are the church). You need to be paying attention to what is going on there. Do you have women struggling to get pregnant? Do you have women suffering from miscarriages? Do you have women in foster care or adoptive situations who have experienced heartache and loss? Do you have women who lost their children prematurely? You should be ministering to them on Mother's Day, not ignoring them. We love our God and Savior, our Comforter, our Strength, and we want to worship Him with you on this day just like any other day, so please let us! Let us join you, not hide from you! Help us worship God in this pain, which often times is the most beautiful form of worship...Help us do this.