On becoming a mother.

They are always there.

Part of my story.

Mother's Day is not just the joy of having four beautiful children around me.

It's the pain of having two of them not.

It is hard for me not to think of those who hurt on Mother's Day~

Be it from

 Missing their own mother~

Missing the one who made them a mother~

Missing that chance of becoming a mother~

I think there are many more hurting, or with those mixed feelings, than those who are completely full.

That is my story.

At a recent meeting that topic of your friend saying "I'm expecting" came up.

And what is the right way to tell someone.

I've been on both sides... How to tell someone & How I prefer someone to tell me.

No matter how happy you may be for someone becoming a mother, 

there is so often that sting that comes with it.

I remember days after I lost E.

A college friend had told me that he and his girlfriend were expecting. 

The knife.

And can you believe it?  Twins?

The twist.

I congratulated him and held my stomach 

(and my tears).

A week later I got a phone call.

It was my own mother and there was a lot of commotion in the background.

I couldn't quite hear.

And then it came out, "You're going to be an Auntie!"

(And dare I admit it.)

That knife was back.

And I was so ashamed.

I congratulated my brother and held my stomach 

(and my tears).

Because in those moments (when the pieces of my broken heart were still so sharp) it became about me.

I didn't want it to be.

But my broken heart went there and made it that way.  

That's how I felt.

The thing about feelings is that they aren't right or wrong... they simply are.

Both of these announcements came over the phone.

And THAT was the greatest blessing for me.

Because those moments of "me"

Those moments of breaking

Holding my stomach

Hiding my tears

were alone.

And when I saw the expectant parents next, I could hug them and say how happy I was for them...

And I was.

I just needed time.

We all need time.

Our experiences shape us, make us who we are, grow us.

Those broken sharp edges of our heart will become more rounded

But they will always be~ broken.

I wanted to share this story because perhaps you know someone.

Someone like me who had recently lost a child (or perhaps EVER lost a child) and you're wrestling with how to tell them.  This is what I would have said in those days, weeks, months and perhaps even years following my losses.

I want you to know that it will hurt me a little.

But not telling me will hurt me a lot.

I want you to know that in that moment you tell me I may be a little sad for me.

But I am also so happy for you.

I want to thank you for telling me over the phone

Where I won't have my face give me away.

Though it may take a moment for the reality of 

"It's not me" to settle in...

It will.

Because you are my friend.

I am and will be so happy for you, on becoming a mother.

There is nothing quite like it.

It's all I've ever wanted.

And hopefully, one day soon, 

I'll be joining you.

Thought of you all on Mother's Day.

Those of you full of joy.

Those of you full of sadness.

Those of you with the rounded edges.

And those of you still dreaming

of becoming a mother.

Godspeed.

I'll never forget that first Mother's Day.  How bittersweet it was.  I had a beautiful baby in my arms but a huge hole in my heart.  I had a flower on my wrist and I remember those around me in church looking at me and smiling at me.  A sweet young mother.

What many of them didn't know was that whole story. That my motherhood didn't begin with the baby in my arms, but with his brother who was born one minute before him that September before.

They didn't know that I felt God that September night. Felt a presence that is indescribable.  One that I will never forget. I grew up that day.  I had a purpose.  I was a mother. But that first night being a mother, I looked at my first born one last time, kissed his forehead and whispered to him how much I was going to miss him.  And God knows I miss him still.

I am not alone.

Only after losing my Andrew and sharing his story with others did I realize that the pain that I had was not unique.  Friends who had had a stillborn baby, or miscarriage came to me~  Shared their stories~ Cried their tears~ Carried me.

I didn't know.

And you probably don't either. There is something about us. We have an amazing strength to smile again, to get up, to live life, to laugh... and still right there, just below the surface we have them there... with us.  Be it a child we held in our arms, a heartbeat we saw on a screen or a dream we had when we saw those two lines on a pregnancy test.  We remember.  We never forget.  We never will.  We are their mothers.  The one who loved them first and we will love them still until we take our last breaths and join them once again.

I'm sad that I am part of this group, but I am proud.  For no where in this world have I found the love and support and undying kindness like that of a bereaved mother.  One who walked my shoes. One who would carry me when I could not walk it alone.

Thank you.

Thinking of all of you on this International Bereaved Mother's Day.
You inspire me with your stories.  With your strength.  With your love.

Wishing you peace~
Hugs,
L

Remembered.

It is a day so many of us have dreamed of- pictured ourselves being showered with gifts of dandelion bouquets and cards with painted hand prints- Mother's Day-

And yet for so many of us this day has not been what we thought- As we come up on yet another Mother's Day, I want you to pause and remember-

Remember the woman who lost her mother and though she may be surrounded by children, she is missing her mentor, her friend, her mom.

Remember the woman who lost her child and though she may be surrounded by children, she is missing the child who would have been- her daughter, her son.

Remember the woman who lost her dreams and though she never was pregnant she dreamed, and wished and prayed only to have her life take a different path.

They will be around you this mother's day- and you may not even know it-

Will you remember them?

I think back to that first mother's day. The one I had dreamed of. I had thought I would have had a flower pinned to my blouse as I sang praises to the God who blessed me so with two babies in my arms. How different that day was for me. I sat- a flower pinned to my blouse- singing praises to the God who blessed me so with one baby in my arms. I knew that this was not the day I had expected- far from it-, and yet I tried to play the part and I could look at my son and be thankful that he was- for I still remembered those moments they told me he was not.

But it wasn't long before my tears began to fall. I could see him out of the corner of my eye as his shoulders began to shake and he blotted his eyes with his handkerchief- My Grandpa- My Grandpa Jonasen- My living son's namesake. He looked over at me, with my son in my arms and he burst into tears. For he- more than most in that church- knew what I was going through.

His wife had done this- gone through 28 mother's days without her son- killed two months before I was born. What had that been like for my Nana? Sure I was a welcomed distraction that first mother's day for her (much like my Jonasen was for me) but what was that first mother's day like without her son. He had died in October. Had people remembered her in May?

This Sunday there will be a woman having that first Mother's Day or maybe she's had many- a Mother's Day far different than she had expected- and she may be watched- as other's wonder what to do... what to say... or she may be forgotten- as other's wish her well not knowing what lies behind her smile- the wonder- the dreams of what Mother's Day COULD have been.

I hope you remember.

Wishing you a peaceful Mother's Day-

And that you will be remembered-

For your strength

For your grace

For your love

Remembered.

Especially on Mother's Day.

Mother's Day.

I think of those with children at home. People like me. Pins upon our blouses. We wear a smile. But there is something hidden. Something we keep from you. Tomorrow we will go through our day thinking of that person. The one who made us a mother. The one who you don't see. You may not even remember. But we will.
Especially on Mother's Day.

I think of those who have no children at home. At least no children that you can see. They go to the stores- see the signs, the flowers and the cards. They watch the strollers and carts and want to scream, "I am a mother!" "I am a mother too!" But no one else sees. No one else may even remember. But they will.
Especially on Mother's Day.

And I think of those with no children at home. And none in the heavens. I think of those that prayed for months. And months turned into years. And years turned into decades. But no one came. They have done this before. And they will do it again. Remember the struggle. A struggle that no one else sees or may even remember. But they will.
Especially on Mother's Day.

We all had dreams. Dreams of breakfasts in bed, fists full of dandelions and painted plaster creations. Dreams of laughter and hugs, and sticky kisses.
Dreams of being a mother.
And we will remember those dreams.
Especially on Mother's Day.

Our journeys to 'Mother' may have taken different paths.
Paths we wished would have taken us a different course.
But we will all wonder, "Why?" And remember.
Especially on Mother's Day.

We are in this together. We are different but the same. We are in every city, state, country and Continent. We will close our eyes and dream, and remember, and wonder and wish-
Especially on Mother's Day.

Wishing you peace,
Especially on Mother's Day.
L

Mother's Day

Mother's Day.
I couldn't wait to celebrate it.
But then it was here. And he wasn't. And my Mother's Day was different than I had imagined. I sat in church, with my new baby, a corsage pinned on my blouse. I looked down the pew at my grandfather and he knew. He was looking at my son, tears streaming down his face. He knew. This Mother's Day was different than I imagined.

Was it different for you?

I have met women who wanted to be mothers, but couldn't. Friends who go to church every Sunday, except this one.
This Sunday.
This holiday.
Mother's Day.

And I understand.
Today I stood in church, surrounded by my children, my belly swollen with a new life growing inside of it, but I understood.
I wore his ring,
And I remembered.
I wore his ring,
And I remembered who gave me the new name- Mom.
I wore his ring,
And I remembered the tears flowing down his face.
Because he knew.
And he remembered.

Today I did. And a tear fell from my eye. His ring on my finger.
I remembered how I got here, my journey, his story, and I was thankful.

Thankful for the mothers with children beyond this world, with children who are missed, with children who are loved. Mothers who paved the way for my healing, who have given me strength, who have given me hope, who have given me reason.

And I remembered.

Happy Mother's Day my friends. No doubt your children are watching, so proud of the mothers who gave them life, who loved them, who carried them, and who remember them.

I love you.
I remember.