Nerves were shooting through my veins like the venom of Spider-Man’s spider bite. Hiding was absolutely the only answer to my problem, or perhaps running away. With every fiber of my being I would stay far away, avoiding the inevitable confrontation and devastation across my mother’s face on this Mother’s Day. 

Apparently my desire to hide from confrontation began at a young age as I can vividly remember knocking over my mother’s favorite, irreplaceable duck and breaking off the head in the fall. I am no longer hiding from this moment, but from holidays such as Mother’s Day. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mother and I love being able to celebrate my own mother. But like so many others, Mother’s Day is a reminder of who we are missing.

I can remember the gut wrenching first Mother’s Day, a few months after my son left this Earth. Every part of my body and soul wept. It wasn’t just that he was gone, but the hole that was left felt so vastly wide and deep. To somehow find a way to fill this hole seemed impossible. Although others suggested having another baby would help, I knew no other child could fill the dreams I had for him or replace the desires of my heart for him to be with us. 

Oftentimes it is not just the physical child that is missing, but it is as big as the reality of the life we desired has vanished. 

Bleak.
Lifeless. 

The months between losing Alex and conceiving X was difficult. The desire to fill the void and yet the test being negative month after month. While others were celebrating births and baby announcements around me, I was left broken. 

I was reminded recently, while reading Genesis, of two sisters who felt not only empty but jealous. 

We have Rachel who is described as beautiful and whom Jacob wants to be with. However, because he was tricked by their father (you thought the Bold and the Beautiful had stories!) he married the one with the “weak eyes,”, Leah. But as many of us have experienced, we can understand the sadness Rachel feels. You see Rachel may appear to have it all together, but in reality she is:

Barren.
Lonely.

That one hits differently doesn’t it? I know the reality of appearing to have it all together. One look at me and the life we have created and you wouldn’t know that we are missing an entire piece of our family. 

Just like me, God knew the desires of Rachel’s heart and eventually gave her a child. But I know for some of you reading this, you still haven’t had your prayer answered. 

This past week I attended a marriage conference with my new friend, Bat-Chen, and she said one thing that really resonated with me. She said, “God never really says ‘no,’ but instead he says ‘yes, not now, or I have something better.”

Can you imagine watching your child suffer from something they never deserved?
Can you imagine watching your child take their last breath?
Can you imagine burying your child?
Can you imagine never having enough tears to fill the emptiness in your soul?

If you said yes to any of those questions, you are not alone. 

It is difficult to understand why prayers were not answered the way I wanted. Why was I given a “no” to my child’s healing?

But I find comfort in knowing that someone else “gets” me and each Easter I am reminded that Mary does. 

John 19
25 Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.

Each gospel mentions His mother near Him as he takes his last breath. 

No mother wants to watch their child suffer and die, but every mother, if given the chance, would want to be by their side when they do. 

I can only imagine the grief Mary experienced in those final moments and in the years after his passing. But just like Mary, we can once again find joy because we know that death does not mean it it over, but instead just time we must wait until we are reunited. 

My answer may have been “no” but it was also, “I have something better.” Indeed, heaven was a better answer for my son, maybe not for my sad soul, but definitely for Alex.

Recently I was talking with another grief momma about grief over the years. The thing is, grief never really goes away. You don’t wake up one day and realize all the hurt has washed away. Instead you learn to live this life here on earth so that you can be with them in heaven. If I am honest, I don’t want the grief to go away, because he IS missed. 

So today, on Bereaved Mother’s Day, I want to remind you that you, Momma, are not alone. You are not alone in the pain you carry, the sorrow in your soul, or the “fake it until I make it” attitude. Even If there is not a child here to show the world, you ARE a momma. 

With my most heartfelt wishes: Happy Mother’s Day!