To the Child-less Woman on Mother's Day (and beyond)

To the child-less woman on Mother’s Day:

I see you.

When the world around you is smiling and full of flowers, hugs, celebration, gifts.

I see you.

When the church service speaks of something that brings others joy and only brings sadness and pain for you.

I see you.

I have sat in the pew, forcing an exhausted smile having other’s say, “don’t worry, one day it’ll be your turn.” Only for them to not know I was carrying life already that I unknowingly would soon lose.

I have held the pain inside as the bitterness from my failing body engulfs me to the point of barely being able to catch my breath. 

I have felt the empty arms year after year that only gets brought to the forefront, reminding me of how much I am missing, on a day when some find an overabundance of life.

I have heard the comments about needing to “relax,” saying “it’ll happen,” whispers of judgement when emotions are so high, they control every action or lack thereof, making it seem as though you are crazy or just being “hormonal.” 

I see you.

When you get up every day, feeling the loss of never having held your child in your arms before they were ripped away from your womb. 

I see you.

When you finally find the joy of bringing a rainbow baby into this world yet will always feel the losses of the past.

I see you.

I have been to the doctor appointments.

Had the weekly blood draws.

Endured the surgeries and ultrasounds.

Watched as a twin faded in the womb.

Spent sleepless nights in the bathroom as I watched life slip from me.

Stressed over affording it all.

Prayed over not understanding.

Yelled at God for not feeling loved enough.

Cried in the dark, in the car, at work, to friends, to family.

Felt alone. Felt worthless. Felt unseen.

I see you.

Every day you battle the emotions. Today just amplifies them to a decibel level that is difficult to explain to anyone who has not endured it themselves.

Maybe you are someone who holds guilt because you have had the losses but also have had the joy of life that you see every day in your children. Don’t feel guilty. Remember your losses. Acknowledge them. Those losses are your babies, too.

I see you.

Maybe you are someone who has had the losses or perhaps you’ve not experienced the ability to grow another life despite your best efforts and determination. Your pain seems to creep in at the most inconvenient of times and you want to yell at the world for the unfairness of it all.

I see you.

When your body feels like it’s failed you.

I see you.

When you dread the get togethers and avoid the conversations.

I see you.

I won’t tell you the things so many say in hopes to make it all better.

I won’t tell you that miracles happen, or your time will come.

I won’t tell you that you could just adopt – even though I have no idea if that’s something you have already tried to do and it didn’t work out.

What I will tell you is this…

You are allowed to feel angry.

You are allowed to feel sad.

You are allowed to feel bitter.

You are allowed to feel lost.

You are allowed to feel anything that you feel and there is no judgement in this place.

What I want to tell you is…

Despite your feelings,

Despite your thoughts,

Despite the words you hear others say,

You matter. Your life matters. Your words matter. Your thoughts matter.

You are seen. You are loved. You are whole. You are enough.

Your life is important. You are needed. You have a purpose.

Today may suck. This week may be hard. This year may be full of difficult moments.

But you can get through this. You are resilient. You are brave. You are worth the time it takes to be healthy and happy.

To the child-less woman on Mother’s Day, you are not forgotten. One day does not determine your worth. When other’s find joy, it does not diminish your pain. 

Take a breath. You have a place in this world that no one else can fill.

I see you.

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