My journey to motherhood has been long, with many bumps along the way. For five painful years I worked to become a mother. Each Mother’s Day my empty arms mocked me as I watched other women stand in church to receive praise and gratitude, flowers, brunches, and handmade cards.
I remember my last not-Mother’s Day. After four failed IUIs and IVF looming in front of me, I was a desperate, needle-crazed lab rat longing for a belly bump to call my own. I drove myself to Krispy Kreme and bought two donuts. Empty calories filling an empty body.
The following year, the doctors delivered my healthy son from my broken body six weeks early…just in time for me to celebrate my first Mother’s Day. It wasn’t pretty. There was no laying the baby on my tummy after a natural labor. I remember a cadre of doctors, a pharmacy of drugs, and a sense of failure…I didn’t do it right…My body tried to kill my baby…It wasn’t supposed to be this way…I took prenatal yoga and natural birth classes and read all the right books…why?
But then there was Elliott. This four pound gift from a loving God who heard my cries, loved me in my barrenness, and reached down and made life in my lifeless womb. My loving Father bathed me in His grace and bestowed upon me the title of Mother.
My first Mother’s Day the angry incision across my abdomen stung, my uterus cramped, my swollen breasts leaked milk, and I held my tiny miracle baby and took in the wonder of his beautiful wide-spaced eyes, his perfect nose, his wrinkly skin. He didn’t seem to hold it against me that my body tried to kill him. And in that spirit of forgiveness, we set forth as mother and son.
Today I thanked my boy for making me a Mommy. He said, “You are very welcome.” The five years it took to bring him into the world fade, beautiful layers to the watercolor of life. His birth, the laying down my plans for his life, the first true act of selflessness as a parent.
Today I long for my next child. Through the uncertainty of birth and now waiting, in limbo for her unknown family as we watch her grow up in pictures. I don’t know why God has called me to this motherhood of waiting. But this morning with my daughter’s face around my neck and my son’s hand in mine, I was filled with love for a Savior who loves me enough to lead me to my children. God reminded me of the journey, of His timing, of His utter faithfulness. My God who opened my womb to my son has opened my heart to my daughter and she will come. He will bring her. And it won’t be the way I planned it.
Just as my son’s birth defied all the books and classes and preparations that I’d made, my daughter’s adoption is defying all the stories and blogs and average wait times that I’d heard. I wouldn’t trade one moment of my journey to Elliott, because it led me to my Elliott. I feel the same way about ESD. Everything has led us to her.
And I will continue this motherhood of waiting. Each day God reminds me of His faithfulness when my miracle baby walks into my room and wakes me up for another day of fun. My children are worth the wait, and my God is worthy of my trust.
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