Let me give it to you straight. Our child’s birthmother will die. We have a lot to catch you up on, and I do indeed plan to do that soon. But it’s a somber fact that has haunted me all of this “mother’s day week” that by the time we will adopt our African child, he will have already experienced the death of his birthmother. The woman who felt his squirming and kicks in utero and who cried out in anguish with each painful contraction will never have the chance to see her precious baby grow up. Some days, I just can’t seem to shake the thought of the tragedy and loss that will forever be part of our adopted child’s story. Today is one of those days.
Truth be told, my heart is more than a little heavy this mother’s day. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mom and celebrate her today. But I also know that this holiday is opening some still-raw wounds for so many around us. In the past year alone, I can name far too many of you who have dealt with
Broken relationships with their mothers
We live in a fallen world in which all of these things are real and painful and can so quickly disrupt the happy little Hallmark holiday that we are told to celebrate today.
To those of you who are aching or bitter or just straight-up numb today, I am so sorry. May you find comfort and hope in knowing that there is a God who redeems and restores and makes beauty from ashes. Because, in the midst of the hugs and kisses and cards and mother’s day wishes lavished upon me by my two kids, this is the truth that I myself am clinging to today.
Happy mother’s day, y’all.