An Infertile’s Heart on Mother’s Day

It's convincing yourself in the days leading up to to the day that you'll be okay this time. It's trying to prep yourself mentally and emotionally and starting off okay, only to be hit with floods of emotions far out of left field... crushing all the preparation and strong mentality and somehow leaving you feeling like a puddle on the floor.

It's mascara laced tears running down your cheeks.

It’s feeling sadness in your heart for what isn’t. It’s feeling sorry for yourself. It’s feeling silly and ridiculous because you don’t know how you could feel so much love for someone who hasn’t even come to fruition. It’s wanting to hide and not be around people. It’s running to your husband’s arms for comfort and feeling like you ruined your happy Sunday.

It's riding 4 wheelers through the mud, praying that the burst of adrenaline will mask the sadness and make you forget long enough to go back to "normal".

It's putting on a brave face to celebrate the woman who brought you into this world, because she deserves a smile today. For all the sacrifice she has put into raising a family of four, she deserves your brave face. It's the secret prayer in your heart that you'll have what she has one day.

It's that same woman, a little while later giving you a heartfelt card and note wishing you a happy mother's day in anticipation of the future. Encouraging you in the wait and offering hope for the sadness. It's crying all over again and leaning on her shoulders.

It’s the bible verse she referenced in her card that you hold onto for the rest of the day and use as an accelerant for the hope in your heart. It helps that little glimmer, that had all but dimmed, burn bright again. It’s remembering that it’s about the journey and God hasn’t left you. He is still the author of your story, and though right now you are in the sad (long) middle part of the novel of your life, there will come a Mother’s Day in the future where, in faith, you will dance with joy, and maybe just maybe, with a child in your arms.

Mother's Day for the infertile is hard. It's raw. It's like someone scratching over a calloused wound until it reopens and bleeds all over again. It's going on a train ride (wreck) of emotions in just a short period of time.It's surviving and somehow, with the help of family, finding blessings in an incredibly hard day.