Today I looked into my oldest son’s eyes and told him how Mother’s Day used to be the worst day of the year for me. He looked sad when I told him how I would cry every year on Mother’s Day, wishing God would give me a baby.
I looked out the window of the car remembering those painful anniversaries, how I waited every year, hoping to have one for the next Mother’s Day and the baby didn’t come. Out of the nine and one half years we tried to get pregnant, I cried for at least seven of those years.
Then, looking back into his tender denim blue eyes, I said, “then God gave me You! And I celebrate Mother’s Day with you and I praise Jesus because He gave me you and your two amazing brothers! It is now my very favorite day because it reminds me of how God kept His promise to me all those years ago that He would give me a baby.” He smiled, eyes twinkling, and said, “I love you Mommy!”
I looked at him and his brothers listening to our conversation and said, “I love each of you so much and I am SO thankful for Mother’s Day!” They each grinned and said in their own sweet ways, “Happy Mudders Day Mommy!” were Peter’s words. “Happy Mother’s Day Mommy!” James said. And not to be out done by his little brothers, John told me again, for the third time that morning, “Happy Mother’s Day Mom.”
What sweet and precious words those are on the other side of one of the most painful seasons of my life. A season I was sure would never end on some days and on other days I was sure it would be tomorrow.
Seasons of waiting are like that. When you sense in your spirit that the end of your pain is near somehow it gives you hope to get through the daily pain, to see through to the other side. I don’t know how many times I felt that way. “Maybe tomorrow will be the day” came and went from my heart so many nights over those years. Each time we would make love, whether “scheduled” or not, I would wonder… is it this time?
Then there were the times when I was sure it would never happen. Even though deep in my heart I knew God had promised me a baby (about two years into the season of infertility), others had sensed it when they prayed over me, and they confirmed it time and time again. Some days I just couldn’t imagine it really finally happening. Those are the days that led me down some very bumpy and unfortunate paths. Someday I will elaborate on those experiences, but for now, I will just confirm that a lack of hope can do some damage.
So, tonight, as I am the last one to tuck into bed, I am enjoying the little reminders of God’s great love for me. His promise fulfilled, sleeping in the top bunk. The one He called, “exceedingly and abundantly” – which he is – sleeping on the bottom bunk, and the little precious fellow tucked into his crib named in my heart by my God, “more than I could ask for or imagine.” (Quotes from Ephesians 3:20a “Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think,”).
It isn’t always pretty being a mom, but it is always worth the hard work. I am so happy to be a mother, every day.