“Are you by chance a mother?”
I stared at the Barista through the drive thru window as my brain raced to think of an answer.
She fills the silence. “Ooor is this going to a mother?”
“Uhh… kinda?”
I watch as she placed a Happy Mother’s Day sticker on the top of my drink, tears forming in my eyes.
I’m sure this doesn’t come as a surprise, but this isn’t how I expected to spend my first Mother’s Day. I expected to spend it dreaming of the last few months of my pregnancy. Taking cute Mother’s Day pictures with my growing belly. Setting up the nursery. Enjoying good food instead of being on a special diet for cancer treatment.
Instead I was a mess.
No one tells you this about miscarriages. They don’t tell you that the firsts will feel like a gut punch. Or the holidays that are meant to celebrate what you should have been and what would have been will hurt like no other. They don’t tell you that some people won’t know what to say or might say the wrong thing. Or that for someone who struggles with identity that this holiday would push you to start questioning your own and where that identity can be found.
On Mother’s Day, I didn’t fight for joy. I took a break from social media. I let myself feel the gravity of it all – which if you know me – doesn’t happen often. I soaked in the sweet messages and conversations. I told myself over and over and over that it’s okay to not be okay.
It’s difficult reality knowing that this probably won’t be the only Mother’s Day without a child on this side of earth. I start the second half of my cancer treatment on May 19th, and because of the effects of radioactive iodine on a developing baby’s thyroid, it’s suggested to wait a year before trying again.
I have been struggling HARD with this reality. And just because we wait a year doesn’t mean we are promised anything right away. As I listened to the sermon on Sunday, these emotions began to creep even further into my heart. At the end of the sermon, our pastor asked us three questions as we reflected on the message. Below are the questions he shared and my reflections.
1. What is your Heavenly Father speaking to you?
Every moment was laid out. YOU KNOW ME. I’m not quite ready to use the word “gifted” but I have a year to get myself together, to be intentional, to heal, to focus on good things to pass down for when I’m a mother to child(ren) on earth. Dilan and I have a year to be intentional with each other, our marriage, and our finances. It’s not your fault and there is good in this season whether you’re ready to see it or not.
2. What would that change for you?
Honestly I’m not sure.
Healing from so many things would be a major change, physically and emotionally
Depth of my faith
Understanding the role of a mother more and more
Finding joy in this season
Healthier journey in motherhood
3. Who needs to hear those same words from God through you?
I don’t know who needs to hear these words. The enemy says no one and all of me wishes that was true, because I don’t wish this on anyone. But I know that’s not true. If it’s you that needs to hear these words, I hope you believe them whether its now or as you heal from whatever has happened.
So to the Barista at Starbucks, to answer your question. Yes, I am a mother. I’m just a mother who hasn’t had a chance to meet her child yet. A mother who has the opportunity to work on being a better mother and wife throughout the next year, and maybe more. A mother who will find so much gratitude in the blessings of future pregnancies and motherhood. A mother who has grown so much in such a short time, who has been asked more of in this season than she ever imagined, and is stronger that she ever knew possible.
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