There are parents without carseats, diapers or pacifiers. Mothers who do not have bedtime rituals or middle of the night feedings. Parents without hand-stamped necklaces or birthstone rings. These are the other mothers – the ones in our midst who are quietly hurting.
So today I tell you, parents of babies who are not in your arms. I remember you on Mother’s Day, and you are celebrated.
I celebrate you getting out of bed.
I celebrate you waiting to cry until after your newly pregnant friend leaves.
I celebrate you balling up your fist at the complaining of another parent.
I celebrate you enjoying a quiet evening with your spouse.
I celebrate you crying in the shower at the overwhelming unfairness.
I celebrate you scrolling thru Facebook, steeling yourself against adorable joyfilled photos of families.
I celebrate you going to church and the park and Target.
I celebrate you enduring tests and procedures and needles.
I celebrate you as you slump on the bathroom floor, allowing yourself to feel the cycle defeating you again.And as you rise, choosing to do it all again tomorrow, I celebrate you.