Honestly, this blog is not supposed to be a place where I rant about things that are on my mind or that bother me. In reality, I am searching for some sort of focus for this blog; I very much enjoy writing but simply lack the focus. With that being said, today I am writing about something very close to my heart. This is not a rant, yet I feel the need to voice these words somewhere. So, here it goes…
I hate this time of year. I hate it with such an incredible passion, yet I am disappointed in myself for feeling this way. Spring is a beautiful time of year, especially in the South. Everything springs back to life after several months of appearing “dead.” At the start of spring, I am happy–happy winter is coming to an end, happy that I can leave my windows and doors open, happy the air is warm, and happy to see all of the beautiful colors of spring. Yet, when the month of April shows her face, I become increasingly dismal, and the closer it gets to May, the worse I become. Every year I make an earnest attempt to not feel this way, yet every year it is the same.
April is the month in which I had the absolute worst experience I have ever had in my life–the loss of a child. I’ll never forget the feeling of surprise and excitement my husband and I had when we found out I was pregnant. I would have to say that was the best feeling in the world. Yet, this feeling was short-lived. Despite our having done everything right, it just wasn’t meant to be at that time, and we lost our precious gift. The pain that followed has never really ceased. Days are more bearable as the years go on, but the pain never goes away. If anyone tells you it does, then they are a liar. I’m sorry. It’s true. You’ll get up and go about your day, but don’t think a minute goes by in which you do not think about such a loss. Maybe a blessing of another child would help to ease the pain and the days, but that has not been my case. Not only have I lost such a beautiful blessing but I have also been plagued with the struggle to conceive again. It’s not impossible, but it surely is challenging. And, this is where my so-called rant begins.
What bothers me, especially during this time of year, is when I see mothers complain about having to do something for her child(ren) or about not having enough time for herself. Let me tell you something, woman. Thank God for that “nuisance.” Thank God for that five minutes you get alone. Even better, thank God for all of the other minutes filled with time shared with your child. You don’t know what it is like to be the woman wishing, hoping, and praying for just a little bit of that time to have with her own. You don’t know what it is like to be the woman praying every single night to have just one blessing in a little one of her own.
Yeah, I have been told to get over it and to let it go, but unless you are in a woman’s shoes whom has a very slim chance of having a child, you don’t get to say these words to her. You don’t have to possess her strength to carry on during such a rough time of year. You get to see your babies. You get to hold them tight. You get to have the whole “Mother’s Day” experience. You get to watch them grow older. You get to wipe away their tears. You get to smile and laugh as they do the same. Yet, some of us are stuck on the outside looking in wondering what it would be like to just have one of those experiences.
To those women who get to experience such joys, please take a minute every day to thank God for your blessings. To those women who know the pain, the want, the emptiness in which I speak, know that you are not alone. I pray for comfort in your hearts and for blessings to be yours.
Happy Mother’s Day to all women (those with Earthly blessings and those with Heavenly angels).