It’s Mother’s Day week. Once again I am bombarded with emotions I can’t always sort through. This may be the epitome of bitter-sweet.
I wonder how many years the sad will collide with the happy this week:
I am the Mommy to 4 beautiful little miracles here on earth.
I am the Mommy of 4 little ones in Heaven.
It was the Thursday before Mother’s Day, when I lost my 4th baby.
It was the Thursday before Mother’s Day that everything changed for me.
It was the Thursday before Mother’s Day, that I became free from a heavy heavy burden I had strapped on my own shoulders.
It was the Thursday before Mother’s Day, that my arms were freed from the buckets of cement I had been dragging for 2 long, emotionally exhausting years of ‘trying’.
Trying to make a baby.
Trying to keep a baby.
Trying to let go of all my preconceived notions of what I “deserved”, what I had dreamed of my WHOLE life, but never really doing it.
I spent nearly 2 years operating within my own will.
Never letting go, never giving my dream to a Heavenly Father who was asking so gently to have it. A Heavenly Father who loves me too much to just take it from me.
First miscarriage, I was scared, but had hope it was a fluke, just one of “those things”. Second miscarriage, I was scared and sad. I spent a lot of time crying and worrying. At this point, my fears were really taking hold. Maybe I really would only have 1 child of my flesh here on earth. By the 3rd miscarriage, I was just plain ANGRY! I felt justified in my anger, I didn’t need to let go, I just needed to move forward, try harder.
And I did, stubbornly embracing my own way…..
I could have a baby. I didn’t need God’s help or permission. What had that gotten me before except 3 lost babies?
Let the charting, pillow propping, fertile day testing, baby making begin.
And shortly thereafter, success.
Would this baby be “THE ONE”? The one that would make it and join us here on earth?
2 weary, stubborn years after our journey to have another baby began, I lost that baby who was not “the one” after all. I lost the baby the week of Mother’s Day, this brought the miscarriage count to 4.
You mean after making it all those weeks, I miscarry Mother’s Day week?! Life was so unfair! How was I supposed to face the world with a rounded, oh-so empty tummy? How was I going to survive a Mother’s Day service at church just a few days away?
My trying didn’t work. My plan had failed, and I was…….
So very broken and weary. It’s exhausting to act outside of God’s will. It’s exhausting to run a show that was not mine to run. I was so very sorry for my stubborn ways. Sorry I had written my own agenda and left the Lord in the dust in my plans. But guess what?
He wasn’t left in the dust at all. He never had been.
Instead, He was walking next to me every step of the way, He was carrying me, cement buckets and all, at the times I was too weak and burdened to even stand on my own. He was there with open arms just asking, so gently, so lovingly, if I would give my burdens to Him, my fears, my losses, my dreams. He was asking me to leap and trust Him and His perfect plan of parenthood for Dale and I.
That Thursday before Mother’s Day, I stumbled to the feet of Jesus, broken-hearted, stooped over, slumped shoulders, dragging my buckets of cement, and I fell to my face before Him.
I let everything go.
I gave it all to Him and He set me free.
He lifted my chin, dried my tears, and told me I was loved. He straightened my shoulders and promised it would be okay. He wrapped me in His arms and gave me the most peace and hope I had experienced to date. Maybe even EVER.
So undeserving was I, so foolish were my choices, my “entitlement” of the past 2 years. Yet He loved me enough to get my attention. He loved me enough to give me His peace when I couldn’t achieve it on my own.
I walked away from it, knowing that I may never hold a flesh of my flesh new baby in my arms again.
And you know what?
I was ok with that. I was going to be ok with that because my Heavenly Father’s plans are so much better than mine.
Freedom never felt so good.