When I was pregnant with our son, David, I had a lot of people stop and wish me congratulations on that first Mother’s Day. Only, what most people didn’t realize was that it wasn’t my first Mother’s Day–it was my fourth.
I miscarried our first two pregnancies. Even after our son was born, it took me two years to begin to be able to enjoy Mother’s Day without pain. I know for many, Mother’s Day is a time of more sorrow than joy. I can never come to this day without thinking of mothers I know for whom this is the case–and many others I don’t know. For some, their miracle has not yet happened–perhaps will never happen. And sometimes leaving the house on Mother’s Day can be a little too hard because you are the one with empty arms, who doesn’t get a flower, who doesn’t get celebrated, even though you should be. I will never forget that feeling–the sorrow of being a forgotten mother.
To the mother who is hurting today:
To the mother whose babies are not in her arms;
To the mother who has not gotten to show off her baby bump because her baby left earth too soon;
To the mother who did show off her baby bump but whose baby was born sleeping;
To the mother who has lost a child to SIDS, cancer, or other tragedy;
To the mother of the prodigal;
To the mother who’s still waiting;
To the mother who can’t walk down the baby aisle because it is too painful;
To the mother who doesn’t receive a flower when she walks into a restaurant, even though she should;
To all the mothers who feel sad, invisible, and forgotten–
You matter today, too. You are honored today, too. You are in my heart, now and always.
Originally published May 2019.
The opinions expressed in this post are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of ABQ Mom, its executive team, other contributors to the site, its sponsors or partners, or any organizations the aforementioned might be affiliated with.
