05/12/2017
It's Mother's Day weekend and for many of you, that's a pretty crappy weekend.
I get it.
Boy, do I get it.
They used to be the worst for me. And nothing he could say or do was enough to erase my desire to have what my body refused to have. And so at this time every year my heart goes out to those who's desire to hear the pitter patter of tiny feet in their kitchen aches deep into their bones.
The forgotten momma's.
The wishful thinkers.
The try and try and try againer's.
You are my people.
I'm going to be bold now and say something to you that I've never said before. Allow me that much...
Before you get another refill on the meds that don't seem to work, before you take another shot, or try another thing, I want you to know that all over the United States children are being born to mom's that maybe aren't like you and I. Maybe they need a little more help or a little more time.
Maybe they're too young.
Maybe they're too old.
Maybe they're scared.
Unprepared. Fragile. Nervous.
Or maybe they're not done dreaming their own dreams. Creating their own things. Writing their own stories.
And so maybe, just maybe, the baby they are carrying is the one God always meant for you.
Maybe his hair will look like yours. Or her nose will be like your great grandmothers. Perhaps the way they laugh or talk or protest will shock you as to how someone so similar could come to you in such a foreign way. That's one of the many ways God shows He's a big fan of adoption.
Adoption is not for the faint of heart. The paperwork is endless.
Your nerves take quite the beating.
And the lingering question, "what if we get a dud?" plays over and over and over again. But there are no duds. Only children, be they 5 months or 5 years, waiting to be brought into a home. Waiting to be your baby.
Waiting to make you mom.
So this year please remember that there is more than one way for you to become an overworked, underpaid, rarely appreciated, talked back to, basketball coaching, math teaching, dance recital watching, Snapchat stalking mom. I should know. The two greatest joys of my life grew outside of my body and yet they were always - ALWAYS - supposed to be mine.
I hope you go through 27 hours of labor and that baby has your nose! But if you find your story may not end that way please remember that there are children right here waiting on you to drive them home.
They were always yours.
Your heart just didn't know it yet.
Love,
Melissa
