Warning: unfunniest blog post ever ahead.
Seven years ago on Mother's Day, I visited a new church with Rob and our friends Keith and Andrea. People were welcoming, handshakes were offered, and the pastor started the service by asking all mothers to stand so the congregation could honor them with a round of appreciative applause.
I sat and sobbed in my seat - unable to staunch the flow of tears and the violent shaking of shoulders - for, unbeknownst to all the strangers around me and certainly the pastor who only had honorable intentions, I had miscarried my second baby just one day before. A horrible day filled with physical pain and anguish and indescribable emotional torment.
And then, because I had miscarried at home on a Saturday, I was told to gather and save the remains of this small, precious peanut of a baby to bring into the doctor's office the following Monday.
So that Sunday, as mothers around me stood for their (undeniably deserved) appreciation, I sat and wept for my never-to-be baby in a sandwich bag in my fridge at home.
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There is no telling this without tears.
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So I offer up a special plea for sensitivity this Mother's Day. For many (and I am selfishly grateful to now be in this position), it is a day of feeling loved and appreciated. For others, however, it is a day that brings nothing but feelings of severe loss and a deep, empty ache.
Love on those moms! But please, please be considerate of those around you. You never know whom you could be sitting next to or what she endured the years, months, or day before. ♥
