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.
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