Mother’s Day. Ouch.

It’s just one day.  For goodness’ sake: there are another 364 potential not mother’s celebrations, right? Okay, that’s not helping. So, how to get through this one? Is it possible to wring a genuine sense of peace from a heart that’s currently sucking on a lemon?..

Seems to me I’ve got a few options:

1. Despair (Very appealing):

I’m not pregnant.  That’s terrible.  I’m terrible.  I can’t cope.  I’ve screwed up my life and my biology and everything I touch turns to mulch.  If I was a mum I wouldn’t feel useless.  I’d be happy and fulfilled and loved and I’d have a purpose.  As it is, I’m unhappy and pointless and not even a woman, yadayadadayada…

2. Denial (Yeah, slightly more godly):

I’m not pregnant. That’s fine.  Totally.  Fine. I’ve dealt with it – whatever.  Plenty of other things to be getting on with. I’m fine – now, let’s just drop it.

3. Dealing with it (Impossible):

Tricky, number three.   Like, sawing off your arm tricky, not getting the spare change from the back of the sofa tricky.  But let’s pray and give it a shot.

I’m not pregnant.  It’s painful – sometimes very painful.  But it’s not the bottom line on my existence. I’m not a ‘not-mum’. Any more than I am ‘a wife’, a brunette, or an eldest daughter.  These things are part of me, but they’re commas, not full-stops. What’s me is how I was created – the bits that were there in the womb, when no-one knew me but the Lord.  The bits that remain when I’m on my deathbed, and beyond. Not just soul – but the body and mind that will also be redeemed.  The bits that are struggling with the demands of daily life.

God loves me.  That’s the bass note of my existence.  That’s the light, the hope, the pulse. He loves me.  Like a father loves a daughter and  gives her his heart and his life and rejoices to hear her laugh and wonders as she grows.

It’s a truth that’s bigger than my status or my accomplishments or my feelings or my pain. A fact, incontrovertible and transforming. But it’s more than this too.

After all, who wants to hug a fact? Facts are true, but they’re dry, impersonal, cold. A fact doesn’t rejoice over me with singing or pick me up when I’m face down.  But a Father does. A father understands my longings and my failures and my fear. He lifts from me the burdens I can’t carry. He loves me.

He loves me.

How can I despair when I am bathed in this love?

How can I pretend either?

You see, here’s what my Father is not:

He’s not a threat.  Get it together and count your blessings.

He’s not an axiom or a moral.  This is gonna make you unhappy, but at least you’ll be godly.

He’s not a consolation prize. You’re not pregnant, but hey, you’ve got God.

He’s not an excuse.  No-one else can understand and I’m gonna give myself to it and harden up and rail and rage because I’m in pain dammit and that’s not FAIR.

He’s not  a crutch. I’m not pregnant and until that time I’ll swallow Him along with the happy pills and the positive thinking.

He’s not a bargaining chip.  I’m not a mum now but if I stay positive and pray really really hard, He’ll eventually give me what I want.

He’s God.  He’s totally in control. Can He give me a baby?  Sure. Will He? Maybe not.

But along with His omnipotence, I’m comforted by His love.  By the Father who gives up His Son so that He can have many siblings – including me.  Who draws me into His embrace and His family. Who is more beautiful and satisfying than anything this world offers.

 

 

 

 

 

6 thoughts on “Mother’s Day. Ouch.

  1. Wow, truly heart-wrenchingly honest! Love the way you do this Emma. Keep on fixing your eyes on Him, the author and perfecter, and be blessed. xx

  2. I am not childless. But in january my son died at six weeks old after a five week fight. I can identify with some of the feelings you are experiencing. I think its very easy to become consumed by this mountain of pain and I found your honesty and wisdom very helpful. I prayed with every atom of my being that my son would live. God took him anyway. I am having to re-write my relationship with God, knowing now I didnt understand as much as I thought I did about who he is. Mother’s day is hard but I can see your faith has real roots, a real foundation, and I hope that it will see you through. I hope the same goes for me. Its a long road. x

  3. Dear Jo

    Reading your comment I had to fight back tears – what a heartbreaking experience. I am so, so sorry. Thank you for sharing and please know that I am praying for you.

  4. Precious Emma,
    How about Ms day for a crappy mum? I actually consider you one of my ‘mothers’ because I’ve have been nurtured so much by you since I found your blog last fall. The love you let come through is straight from the mother heart God put in you. I can see how God uses me to reach out to many “kids”(some much older than me!) beyond my own brood all the time. Many of us still have parts inside that are wounded and not grown up yet and God utilizes our mother hearts (because that is really His heart too) to nurture each other. I am sorry I am not as cuddle friendly as you might like but… I LOVE YOU MOM!!!

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