A Perennial Wound: To Those Who Hurt on Mother’s Day
A Perennial Wound
“Happy Mother’s Day!” Perhaps you’ve gritted a smile today each time you heard this. All the while holding back tears. You understand the inherent joy, so you would never want to sour the day for a mom. That’s not the issue. You just wish you could be the mother it was being said to. You long to be a mom. You grieve the loss of a child. Mother’s Day is a perennial wound for you that hurts every year. You wish it didn’t.
To the Want-to-Be-Mothers
Today can feel terribly lonely. The boxes of pregnancy tests that have been trashed, every period that comes is another reminder of a failed attempt, and now you are surrounded with celebration of the singular desire. Sister, we see you.
Think of Hannah. “She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly” (1 Samuel 1:10). To weep bitterly is no small thing. And of course she did; she was deeply distressed. It is not a sin for a woman to desire natural childbearing. Hannah does not need to repent for crying out to God and pleading with Him to open her womb. God was the one who “closed her womb” (1 Sam. 1:6) so only He can open it.
God is not bothered by your tears. Unfortunately, Hannah’s husband (Elkanah) was kind of an idiot. He asked “Hannah, why do you weep? And why do you not eat? And why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?” (1 Samuel 1:8). Like I said, dumb! But this is a good reminder that a grieving woman cannot look to even her husband, her greatest earthly partner, for ultimate comfort and healing. Elkanah cannot give her what only God can give—not only a child, but peace.
If you, like Hannah, have cried out to the Lord and pleaded with Him to open your womb and make you a mother, you might need to be reminded that that is not a sin to repent of. You may also need to be reminded in your pleading, do not sin. In other words, as painful and heartfelt as you may be, do not give the enemy a foothold by tempting you to be bitter, hateful, envious, or any other sinful emotion.
Sister, know that you are not less than a woman because you cannot get (or stay) pregnant. You are not a bad or ungrateful Christian for longing to have a child. In the deepest possible pain and suffering, know that God is a gentle Father whose arms are open and longs to comfort you in that affliction.
When you, like Hannah, are drowning in your tears, go to the “God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4).
To the Used-to-Be-Mothers
When I say “used to be” mothers, of course I acknowledge that you still are objectively a mom, even if your child is no longer with you. Please know that nothing and no one can take away the fact that God has made you a mother. However, the reason today is so hard is because you are no longer a mother in the same way.
Whether it is the sting of estrangement or the grief of death, Mother’s Day can invoke more of a nauseating emotion than a happy one. As a pastor, I know that terrible things happen for no direct reason. Miscarriage, stillbirth, disease, disaster—all horrible things. I have been in the hospital with a mother who was holding her baby who was healthy in her womb 12 hours earlier. What are they going to do with an empty nursery? How do they update their family and friends?
Truthfully, there is no satisfying answer. No matter what, it is going to be the most painful thing a person could go through. Still, there are three truths that can offer a deep sense of hope. First, there is a sovereign God who loves you so unfathomably much. Second, there is a community of believers who are called by God to walk alongside you in your pain. Third, I believe God has predestined that all children who die to salvation.
King David lost a baby too. “Then his servants said to him, “What is this thing that you have done? You fasted and wept for the child while he was alive; but when the child died, you arose and ate food.” He said, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept, for I said, ‘Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that the child may live?’ But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me” (2 Samuel 12:21–23).
Did you catch that? “My baby is no longer with me,” he admits. But then he declares, “I shall go to him!” David knows that he will see his baby again in glory. He was confident in that truth. And those who have lost babies in pregnancy and infancy can be equally confident because God says so.
It can feel almost impossible to explain how bad grief feels. But know that God knows. Jesus is able to sympathize with you. The Holy Spirit can take your jumbled mess of a prayer and untangle it. He can articulate clearly what you can only groan. Lean on God, sister.
To Both of You
Whether you are longing for a child you don’t yet have, or aching for a child you can no longer hold, God is with you here and now. He is not waiting for your grief to subside or your expectations to wane. He is with you in the messy middle.
The same God who heard Hannah weep, who heard David weep, now hears your cry. Not only will He be with you whenever things feel more normal (whatever that means), not only has He been with you through it all, but He promises to be with you today.
You don’t have to smile through this. You can bring every painful emotion and sinful thought—all of it—to a Father who is not surprised by any of it, not burdened by it, and not waiting for you to clean it up before He takes it and holds you.
Mother’s Day will come again. It may hurt again. But you do not need to face it alone.
He sees you, sister. He really does.
