I’ve never forgotten the pleading and howling. I’ve never forgotten the lamenting and groaning and yes, sometimes – whining and pouting.
I haven’t forgotten the day the stick said I was, but I said it couldn’t be, I couldn’t be, and I chuckled like Sarah, because I’d like to tell you I’m full of faith bone deep, but that’s not me. No, I had to have a nurse… and a doctor confirm it.
There is an ache soul deep when a momma needs to be a momma. No, I didn’t misspeak. It’s a very common thing to be born a momma. It’s also common in our broken world to give birth and never be a momma – really.
I spent 3 years asking God why not me. Then He gave me the marvelous wonder of motherhood, and I’ve spent every day since asking God why me.
You know where I see pretty babies all the time?
There is a constant stream of adorable babies. Have you noticed? I promise you the 6.7 million women battling infertility notice.
No, battling wasn’t a poor choice of word either. There are people battling cancer, poverty, Aids, depression, addiction and… infertility.
Don’t think cancers the only thing that can eat away at your insides, or that addictions or depression affects you neurologically but not infertility. And don’t think for a minute that Aids and poverty are the only socially isolating issues.
Becky said, “our hurts seem so small comparatively.” Haven’t we all been there? It’s not a bad place to visit. We all need reminding of how blessed we are. Thank God He isn’t into comparisons. There’s enough God to tend to the cancer, Aids, and us without compromising the other.
Social media can be a hurtful place for those battling infertility. Lucky for me, 8 years ago social media wasn’t a thing. Or at least wasn’t a thing I knew about.
I snuck in for a bath in the jacuzzi the other day. That’s where I shed most of my tears and whaled most of my infertility prayers. I stared up at the ceiling and memories came flooding back.
Memories of how I felt so alone and forgotten as everyone else was having their first, second… fourth babies. I felt like I was forgotten. God where is mine?
Infertility left me feeling broken and ugly. If I was fearfully and wonderfully made then why am I broken, and unable to conceive?
I felt like I was striped of what made me a woman. Like I slipped down the conveyer belt and missed the quality control inspection.
Or maybe punished?
Friends and family? Well, the ones I felt comfortable talking to didn’t know what to say. They meant well. It’s hard to know what to say to hurting people period, but especially if you’ve never been there. I would hear things like:
-You want kids? Take mine! -Maybe it’s just not meant to be.
-Don’t worry. Just relax and it’ll happen. -Your trying too hard.
-Why don’t you just adopt?
-It must not be Gods will and you wouldn’t want anything that isn’t in Gods will for you would you?
While there is some truth to some of these, and total truth to the others. Hurting people only hear of one more way they are a failure.
They hear of one more way they weren’t blessed and highly favored.
One more way they are blowing it.
Today is her birthday. But, Inside I feel like it’s my birthday too. Not in a steal your thunder kind of way, but a remembering the thunder that tore me open and made us belong to one another.
No it isn’t when I came, but when I became – the only thing I’d spent my whole life dreaming of being.
So today I’ll celebrate her birth.
I’ll celebrate my becoming Mommy.
I’ll save the wishes for her and I’ll make the prayers. I’m praying that all those women born Mommas find their babies.