Confession: I hate Mother's Day.
I love my mom and am beyond thankful for her....but I hate Mother's day.
Some years I see Mother's Day as a hallmark holiday.
Most years all I see is the pain of all the women that are childless. Those that yearned to be mothers but life didn't have it in her cards.
This year I saw it with potential and hope of a day to celebrate women who parent children, either their own or others.
But I still felt sad. It is a tainted "holiday" for me. I see posts of mothers with all their children and think about all of our babies. The ones that made me a mother without recognition from this world.
13 babies in heaven, and one little miracle. Matthew.
My cup is full but still feels empty some days. An ache that never fully goes away.
In Sunday school we were asked to reflect on a time we questioned God's goodness. I had held back the tides of sadness pretty well all morning and then it all came crashing into me. Our infertility. Our losses. I questioned God's goodness. I questioned His plans for my life. I almost walked away from God during the most bitter angry moments in my life.
I held tears back for the most part. But the excitement of Mother's Day was gone for me at that point.
I hate Mother's Day. I nominate a change to Women's Day. But that probably would be politically incorrect.
Let's celebrate the women in our lives that have impacted our lives or our children's lives. Ministry workers. Aunts. Grandparents. Babysitters. Friends.
I am beyond thankful for the women that have influenced my life from my mom, my grandmothers, my aunts, my mom's friend Faith, Chris Coddaire and other girl scout mom's, my friends' mothers, my friends, those that teach my son at church, and those watched him endless hours during nursing school.
But I have to confess in all honesty.
I hate Mother's Day.
