Don't Call Me a Mom. Please.

They don't make Mother's Day cards for people like me- people who were moms for a few weeks or a few months but who didn't get to carry their babe full term and meet him or her. I don't feel like a "real mom" because of that.

People have, with pure intentions and kind hearts, told me, "You're a mom. You'll always be a mom. Life starts at conception." Or whatever.

I'm here to tell you why I respectfully but passionately implore you not to call me a mom or tell me I am and always will be a mom. Other women who have had losses may feel differently, and we should respect their wishes, just as mine should be respected. If a woman who HAS had a loss wants to be referred to as a mom, do it. I know I will.

Yes, I do believe life begins at conception (more specifically implantation but let's not get nit picky). Yes, I do believe I was carrying a human, a baby, before I had my miscarriage in August. Yes, all I could THINK about was that child- everything I ate, bought, and did centered around my future as a mom. Trying to find a doula, starting a registry, touring a birth center- I got so many "mom" things done for those six weeks I knew I was pregnant!

And then it...just... vanished. The journey to motherhood ended abruptly, painfully.

And now, I can't connect with other moms, besides commiserating about morning sickness and first trimester exhaustion. I can't hold my own in a conversation about the second and third trimesters. I can't tell you what it's like to feel that first baby kick or take the glucose test for gestational diabetes. I can't share my labor story with you and compare our experiences or talk about what breastfeeding was like.

When moms give each other knowing smiles because baby is teething and drooling and not sleeping, I just stand there awkwardly, like I'm looking into the exclusive mom club, wanting to be invited in but failing to meet the prerequisites.

It actually HURTS when people call me a "mom" because it reminds me of all the things I will not experience with Lila Grace- sleepless nights, exploding diapers, temper tantrums, hearing her say "mama" for the first time, potty training, scraped knees, teaching her to read, telling her to pull her skirt down, watching her graduate from high school...the list goes on. "Real" moms share stories, are connected through their experiences, bond over their kids.

I have none of that. I have empty arms, an aching heart, and a longing for what would have been.
But I also have acceptance of God's plan, even though I don't understand it, and I have His Word and His promises, His grace, His comfort.

You may think of me as a mother, and that is your prerogative. But I think it's also mine to request that you not call me "mom" and remind me of everything I am missing out on. I know you're trying to help, to be kind, to remind me my baby mattered- and maybe someday I'll be ready for that title- but for now, it just stabs me and causes twinges of bitterness and resentment, which I am praying for the Lord to remove from my heart daily, sometimes hourly.

Even if I don't want to be called "mom," I'm thankful, though, for the opportunity to FEEL like a mom sometimes- like when I hug a kid who's crying or scold a kid who's tardy or feel the forehead of a kid who has a temperature. I'm thankful for all the young people who let me love on them, who bless me with their senses of humor, and who give me some practice at this whole "being a mom" thing...and who sometimes even tell me, "You're gonna be a good mom someday, Suders." <-- one also added she could see me singing Frozen songs with my future daughter. How adorable is that?

Thanks, kids. Someday, I hope I will be.

You might be TTC if...

I'm going to NOT publish the super angsty, whiny rant I wrote earlier while sipping my java chip frappucino. Today, I'm going to resort to humor. Or, at least, a more lighthearted tone.

It's been almost eight months since our miscarriage. Six months since we've hopped back on the trying to conceive (TTC for short, as I learned from baby boards) train. A month since our due date. And this whole "living my life in hopes of being a baby-making machine" is just a reality now (which I honestly never really thought it would be because babies = meh and little kids/older kids/teens = my bread and butter). But now all I really want is a giant belly and stretch marks and a squishy little poop monster to call Suders Junior...

So here's my "You might be trying to conceive if" list. Enjoy (or don't. Whatever. I don't write for you...I write for me):

1) You might be TTC if every time you see "AF" on social media, you think of "Aunt Flo" and not...what that actually stands for...

2) You might be TTC if you don't even accidentally SNIFF alcohol during the second part of your cycle, ya know, just in case.

3) You might be TTC if you've ever ordered pregnancy or ovulation tests on Amazon. Or Amazon Prime. Or Amazon Prime Now. Shhh...don't ask me how I know they sell them there...

4) You might be TTC if you have literally wanted to punch someone in the face after they've said, "Oh yeah, we weren't even trying!" *giggle giggle* The feeling soon passes and you're happy for them and still a little jealous, probably.

5) You might be TTC if you have tried acupuncture, herbal supplements, taking your temperature every morning, changing your diet, and other more, erm, intimate and private changes in hopes of increasing the chance of making a baby...

6) You might be TTC if you look at your calendar months in advance and make sure your schedule aligns with your husband's. Wink wink.

7) You might be TTC if someone asks you what day it is and you say "CD 21" instead of "April 11th."

8) You might be TTC if you know what AF, BFP, BFN, CD, CM, EWCM, and LP all stand for.

9) You might be TTC if you secretly spend time choosing baby names and building a baby registry and researching douals, ya know, just in case.

10) You might be TTC if you think, "This baby would be due in January if we MAKE IT RIGHT NOW."

Maybe a little TMI, but hey, it's better than the alternative, which was for me to vent (once again) about all the people who are magically becoming preggo without even trying, all the people complaining about their kids/pregnancies (gah, what I wouldn't give to feel that morning/noon/night nausea again!), and all the people who are telling me to "just relax."

So trust me- this awkward (for you...I don't care) list is way better than the alternative.

Life is a Waiting Room

Life is like a box of chocolates.
Life is a highway.
A journey.
A game.

For me, right now, life is a waiting room. Waiting for signs and signals, nervously tapping my foot, hoping my body is ok and isn't broken, trying to pass the time by distracting myself.

Sometimes it's hard to stay distracted. I'll be at school in my classroom and randomly think, "I'm not supposed to be here right now... I'm supposed to be out on maternity leave...hmm..." But I wonder- like- AM I supposed to be in the classroom? Do those kids need me and whatever I'm giving them right now...? There have been a lot of awesome teacher moments lately. God knows I need them. There have also been REALLY challenging moments, like when two students write research papers on abortion................ok, I'll just stop there. Y'all know how incredibly pro-life I am.

The difference between God's perfect will and His permissive will is a topic that weighs heavily on me, like an overstuffed backpack, always kind of there but never at the forefront of my focus. I've kind of given up trying to understand what this whole miscarriage situation is. I've kind of just fallen into His arms and tried to trust him, tried to abandon my search for "the" right answer (which is hard for me, y'all).

And so I wait. For Him. For two pink lines instead of one. For summer. For the door of the waiting room to open. I'm not the one who opens the door, and for a control freak like me, that is h.a.r.d. to swallow.