A bereaved mother. A loss mother.
Not a mother at all.
A childless mother.
A childfull mother.
A mother to many.
A mother of all mothers.
A mother of dragons.
These are the many titles I have been given since we ended our infertility journey without our children in our arms.
This Sunday will be the fourth Mother’s Day that I am woken up by a cold nose and pup cuddle and not burnt toast in bed with hand drawn cards. It will be the fourth Mother’s Day I will cry as I run my fingers over the black and white picture of our three embryos as the forever longing bubbles up to a sharp sting of grief.
And, it will be the first Mother’s Day in four years that I finally give myself permission to celebrate it myself.
Because I am all of the above titles and honors.
I am a mother.
This weekend I will give myself permission to cry looking at those eight cell embryos that are my children. I will give myself permission to wonder if they’d have Chad’s calmness or my passion, his blond hair or my freckles. I will give myself permission to be sad, angry and even a bit bitter.
And then I will take a breath to allow a tiny bit more space to open up and I will choose my joy, my gratitude and my trust.
My joy that through my motherhood I have become the most amazing version of myself and am sharing this light to help so many. My gratitude for the journey and that I was given my babies to begin with. My trust in His story for me and that I can find my place in it.
And then I will spend this glorious day celebrating all mothers, including myself, by doing my most favorite things.
I will sleep in.
I will color.
I will brave church, because it is my most favorite 70 minutes of the week usually.
I will lay on the patio in the sun with three dogs who love me more than anything.
I will check on my gardens and continue preparing them for the soon to arrive monarch butterflies.
I will write.
I will drink red wine with my toes in the pool.
I will thank my mom for everything she does for me and how she loves me.
I will walk my dogs while singing my music way too loud for anyone’s enjoyment.
I will look at my husband and thank him for getting me.
I will eat yummy food that will include my usually forbidden but delicious and warm gluten.
I will take a drive in my husband’s car with the t-tops off, the sun on my face and the wind blowing through my hair.
I will watch our favorite Sunday night shows with three dogs on my lap and my husband spoiling the plot because he always guesses right.
I will celebrate myself.
I pray you do too, children by your side or not, because we are mothers.
