This is not a part of the devotional, but it’s been eating at my heart lately because, well, Mother’s Day is coming and I can’t help but wonder what if. . . .  I had to get it on paper and, since I wrote it, I figured I may as well share it. I pray it touches someone.

Dreading Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day, 1997. I am lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I hear my husband in the shower. I know I should get up, but can’t move.

“God, I’m not going to church today. They’re going to try to give me some hokey gift. And there’s going to be those stupid contests: Who has the most children? Who has the oldest children? Who’s children traveled farthest to be with her today?

“What about: Who’s the worst mother in the world because she can’t keep a baby alive for more than ten weeks? Where’s the prize for the most miscarriages? Now there’s one I could win.

“I’m not going. Someone else can teach Children’s Church or they can sit with their precious mothers. I’m staying home.”

God, in his loving, smack-me-into-obedience voice said, “You will go because you have a responsibility and you will keep your word. And I have given you the 30 children in that church. You are their spiritual mother. Go take care of them.”

I dragged myself out of bed and spent five minutes staring at my closet trying to decide what to wear. By the time I got myself together we were too late for me to sneak in past the gift givers.

Pastor’s wife caught me as I walked in the door. She thrust a pot of violets into my hands. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

“I’m not a mother.”

“But you represent motherhood.”

Right, sister. I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. I took the pot, muttered thanks, took off down the hall, and deposited the gift on the first table I passed. Someone else can have two.

I was setting up chairs in my room when Rueben came running up to me waving a piece of paper. “Here, Miss Debbie, this is for you.”

It was a picture of him and me with some flowers. Printed across the top in his very best 5-year-old writing, it said, “Happy Mother’s Day.” That picture holds a permanent place in my keepsakes.

*********

The following Mother’s Day, I was pregnant – again. The next month, I miscarried – for the third time. My husband was on a business trip when it happened so I was home alone. Oh, so alone. I knew it was coming because, just as before, I went in for the first appointment and there was no heartbeat. Two weeks later, again, no heartbeat. The ultrasound revealed the whole truth. This child, too, had quit developing. But I couldn’t help but hoping that somehow, the doctor was wrong. Until he was proved right. “God! How can you keep doing this to me! If you don’t want me to have children, don’t let me get pregnant!”

Gently, he spoke again to my heart, “The next one, you will hold.”

I knew the voice, and knew I should trust, but the pain was too great. “Okay, but don’t let me find out until the heart is beating.”

Three month after that last miscarriage, my cycles still hadn’t regulated, so I hauled myself back to the doctor. Michelle, the PA, said she could put me on the pill to help my body normalize, but first she wanted to do an ultrasound. Off to the skimpy paper gown for me, then the ultra sound. And a heartbeat. A strong heartbeat.

They monitored that baby closely for the first three months. She developed normally, and was born June 6, 1999. She was followed by her sisters in 2001, 2002, and 2005. All just alike as four peas in a pod.

My oldest knows her story, and often asks me to tell it. She is our child of promise, our reminder of hope, that no matter how hard things get, God is not finished.

Why did we miscarry the first three? I don’t know. Maybe so I would have a place in my heart for infertile couples, so I can know how to grieve with them.

As the years progressed and I busied myself with the others, the pain lessened. But every year, Mother’s Day has an empty moment, where I remember my three who no longer are: my Donna Marie, Rueben Daniel, and Doxa Christi.

Mamma love you, my dears.
Reference:
Jennifer Saake has written a wonderful book, Hannah’s Hope, for couples dealing with the pain child loss due to infertility, miscarriage, adoption loss, or death in early infancy. You can find her book at http://hannahshopebook.com and an online support community at http://www.hannah.org