My mother will be visiting for Mother’s Day, which I’m thankful for because it takes the sting out of a holiday that’s become painful in recent years.
In dealing with infertility, I am well too aware that I am not a mom and the normal, everyday of life of baby showers, pregnant women, and children remind me of this. I don’t have much to say on this topic except that it’s not the happiest or joyous occasion for every woman. Some women are crying over the fact that they have not been able to have children of their own—whether it be through adoption or natural childbearing.
When I started the journey toward having children, I never anticipated that the journey would be so long and arduous. It comes so easily and naturally for those who want it and those who don’t, why not us?
This is a time when I must remind myself to hope in God regardless of how I want to feel toward Him. Because I want to be angry. I want to be bitter. I want to blame Him for my barren womb. But I remember so many of the women who came before, especially Hannah, Samuel’s mother, and I try to remember their faithfulness to God. I want to not give up. I want to have hope. I want to hope because that’s part of my faith.