Though I have yet to hold my son, I feel bonded to him as his mother. So tomorrow, Mother's Day, I should be feeling celebretory. And while I feel so grateful and infinitely blessed, I am hesitant to celebrate as I am keenly aware that I am a walking irony.
As mentioned in a previous blog entry, (It Takes A Broken Heart), I work has a hospice nurse for Children's. Enough said, right? Just this week, I have worked with several families who have children who have life-threatening illnesses, and many of these little ones are not expected to live through the next year. It is their mothers who are asking how I am feeling. When am I due. What an exciting time this is for me. And these mothers are so joyful, so genuine, it just breaks me. I met a new family last night, and I walked in the room to find the mother cradling her very sick 11-year-old on her lap. I introduced myself as I sat down; she looked up at me. "Nice to meet you. Oh, congratulations," she added as I came into full view. It was much harder to respond with a "thank you" than it would have been to apologize.
And then there are close friends of mine who have been trying to conceive for several years. I grieve for their pain, especially this week. And while I want so very much to support them this Mother's Day with words or flowers or anything I can think of, I am likely the last person that can be very supportive to them. Like they want to hear from a pregnant woman on Mother's Day.
So it is with a grateful heart that I celebrate Mother's Day this year, though my heart is also heavy for those around me. I lift them up in prayer this week, and reflect on the blessing that is within me.
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