I was 26 years old and had been married for a couple of years. I was pregnant again after having a miscarriage. We’d decided not to find out the sex of the baby, so we had a boy and a girl name picked out and both clothing options ready for coming home from the hospital. It was a Sunday, about a week before my due date, when I started having contractions. 

Davis and I had taken the childbirth classes offered at the hospital- the ones where they teach you to breathe through the pain. Yeah, well, that doesn’t work. It was still the 1900’s, so they played a VHS movie on the VCR of what happens during birth. Davis’s eyes bugged out as he ate his complimentary refreshments of cookies and lemonade from the cafeteria. I’d read What to Expect When You’re Expecting from cover to cover. I knew what was supposed to be happening and when. I had a list of instructions from the doctor’s office and a checklist of how to know when it’s time. I knew the criteria for heading to the hospital and we weren’t quite there yet. 

So, we walked around the neighborhood. Somewhere, I’d read walking could speed things along. So, we walked and walked. All afternoon. Finally, my water broke all over the bedroom floor and our time of departure was no longer a mystery. I’d never seen Davis move so quickly. Or drive so fast. 

The pain was getting intense and I rode to the hospital knowing that I was about to become a mother, but I had no idea what that really meant. Yes, I expected sleepless nights. Yes, I knew my day to day routine would change. Yes, I knew there would be added expenses. But, I was only aware of facts I had read in black and white. 

Sunday turned to Monday and a lot of drugs made it all a blur. You might even say I was as high as a kite at that point. At 3:03 a.m., the doctor announced we had a girl and, after just a couple of hours of sleep, they brought her to me. Some of the drugs had worn off and I was starting to feel less fuzzy. That’s when it happened. I was able to hold my daughter for the first time. 

I studied her perfect face and ran my fingers through her thick, brown hair. I pulled her little foot out from the blanket and studied it carefully. I traced her ears with my fingertip and spoke her name softly- the one I’d had picked out since I was 12. Her eyes met mine and they told me she’d been waiting to put a face with my heartbeat. My breathing. My voice. This little person I’d just met had already taken complete possession of my heart. It was in an instant with no fanfare or warning or fuss. It just happened. In that very moment of time, I would’ve died for the tiny soul I’d only known a few minutes and I had no explanation for it except I was her mother.

Ever since that day, her joys have been my exhilaration. Her disappointments have been my greatest frustrations. Her dreams have been my deepest longings. If you want to see my face light up, let her walk in the room where I am. Her accomplishments are my purest form of delight. Her celebrations feed my soul. Kind words spoken of her are the most beautiful sound to my ears. Her sadnesses have been my deepest sorrows. And I’m never quite as happy as when she’s elated. The very same is true for Carson, of course. They are extensions of me. What they feel, I feel. Maybe even more deeply. This was the part I didn’t know about when I left for the hospital that day. This was the part they don’t cover in any of the books. They can‘t teach it in any class. You find it out soon enough on your own. For the rest of my days on earth, the lift of their joys and the weight of their disappointments will continually be tipping the scales of my heart one way or the other and I’m completely and utterly helpless to change that. I have no explanation for it except I am their mother. 

There is nowhere motherhood wouldn’t go. Nothing it wouldn’t sacrifice. No solution it wouldn’t try. No possession it wouldn’t give. No amount of time it wouldn’t invest. Nothing it wouldn’t do without. No place it wouldn’t look. No hurdle it wouldn’t clear. No job it wouldn’t tackle. No odds it wouldn’t try to beat. No discomfort it wouldn’t endure. No price it wouldn’t pay. No chance it wouldn’t take. And there is no explanation for it except for the love of a mother. 

I realize thoughts of motherhood can take us all to a million different places. The highest peaks of joy and love. The lowest valley of sadness and longing. There’s a most beautiful side to it and another one that has more jagged and painful edges. I’m not sure what this holiday will look like for you. Wherever you find yourself this Mother’s Day, I pray that God will meet you there. 

If your Mother’s Day is spent missing someone you loved deeply, may He pull you close to Him in your grief. If the day digs up regret and second guesses, may you feel God’s warm grace covering you. If it is clouded with worry and uncertainty, may God quiet your mind. If the day is a reminder of your disappointment and unfulfilled dreams, may He give you the gift of peace and contentment. If it stirs up memories of pain and hurt, may He help your heart forgive and move forward. If the day is greeted with physical and mental exhaustion, may God grant you renewed strength and focus. If it is filled with love and joy, may He receive your gratitude all day long. If it is riddled with questions of why, may He satisfy your mind with His answers and promises. If the day emphasizes your loneliness, may God sit near you and keep you company. If it’s brimming with admiration and appreciation, may He give you the words to express it. If the day presents the opportunity to help another woman get through her difficult version of Mother’s Day, may He help you seize it.

However you spend your weekend, I do hope it’s full of love. 

There’s been so much going on, lately. May is always like that. We’ll talk again next week. About things like birthdays and mammograms. 

Y’all have a wonderful weekend! 

JONI