I am mildly embarrassed to admit that I turned 24 years old before I realized how hard Mother's Day can be for people. I grew up with an excellent mama, both grandmothers, and even a great-grandmother I got to enjoy into young adulthood. It was 2014 when I experienced my first tough Mother's Day. My grandmother passed away that January, and it was so strange to celebrate that day without the lady who was Mom to my mom.
Fast forward just a couple of years, when I wanted nothing more than for our family to grow, but it just wasn't happening. I started dreading Mother's Day in January. I mean dreading- and I wish that was an exaggeration but it is not. I spent many nights in tears, falling asleep begging God to please not make me do Mother's Day and not be a mama. See, when you're waiting for a baby, every holiday or milestone without one seems like a reminder that you've been somehow forgotten. I had prayed prayers similar to my Mother's Day prayer before.
God, please don't make me hold my nephew without carrying my own baby.
Father, please don't make me do Thanksgiving without being pregnant.
Jesus, please don't make me celebrate Christmas without a positive test.
Once the calendar turned to 2017, days I once looked forward to started to be anticipated with exhaustion and tears instead of joy and celebration. It was like I realized I had a fresh wave of Big, Special Days coming at me, and I had no idea how to process them. Once April came and went, it became apparent that I would be celebrating Mother's Day 2017 as "not a mama". It was one of the hardest, loneliest realizations of my entire life.
I don't think I can adequately express to you how much I wanted to skip Mother's Day. I didn't want anything to do with it. I wanted to stay in bed and pull the covers over my head until the calendar rolled to The Day After Mother's Day. Oh gracious- I was so tempted to. But I couldn't. And I wish I could tell you that the reason I couldn't is because it wouldn't have been fair to my mom and my sister (who was celebrating her first Mother's Day, by the way) and my Mema, but that's not the reason. The real reason isn't nearly as noble or selfless. So why couldn't I?
Pride.
It's not something I'm (irony here) proud of, but my pride is what initially kept me from skipping Mother's Day. See, if I skipped Mother's Day, it would be admitting that I really was hurting, and I couldn't let anyone see that. I had a facade to keep up: Kayla, who can handle whatever life throws at her with grace and ease, always trusting, never doubting.
It was my pride that I had to lay down to make it. Because if I didn't lay down my pride, I couldn't get close enough to Jesus for Him to carry me.
So I did. Y'all, that's the only way I could make it- dropping the pride at the feet of Jesus, surrendering to His plan, no matter what that may turn out to look like in my life. I brought Jesus my pride, and I learned what it means to cast my cares on Him.
So it was all perfect after that, right? Mother's Day became the happiest day of my life, right?
Mmmmm no. I wish I could tell you it was neat and tidy and pretty. Jesus did what He does: He made it beautiful, in His time and way, but it didn't look like beauty at the time to me.
So what did it look like, to actively lay down my pride?
It looked like a lot of tearful prayers.
It looked like calling my mom and asking the women in my life to exchange gifts before I got to our family Mother's Day lunch.
It looked like dropping off gifts at my parents' house the day before and not staying long so I didn't get choked up.
It looked like crying on the way home from said gift drop.
It looked like writing heartfelt cards through tears.
It looked like loving other mama's babies, keeping nursery during worship.
It looked like realizing that gratitude and sorrow can sometimes be held side by side.
It meant taking a deep breath, and learning (again) what it means to be grateful.
Grateful for my husband. For my puppies. For my family as it was.
Grateful that I've never known life without knowing the name of Jesus.
Grateful for the kids I've gotten to love over the years.
It looked like daring to hope.
Hope for the babies that would one day call me "mom". For what my family would someday be.
Hope for my friends that were and are waiting in faithful expectation for the same.
God was doing a new thing even then. He was growing in me a compassion for women that would never have existed had I not lived that season. The great, beautiful irony in all of it? I was pregnant and didn't know it yet. Just 10 days after the Mother's Day I dreaded for (at least) 5 months, we found out we were expecting.
If you're the one dreading Mother's Day today, dear future mama, don't let your pride keep you from His goodness. You are so dear to Him. You are so dear to me, and you are in my prayers as we come up on this day that holds so many feelings for so many women. I can't promise you children, but I can promise you that you're loved by the Most High.
Motherhood is a high calling, but it isn't the only high calling. Walk in the grace of that truth- becoming a mama doesn't get you a better seat at His table. He will accomplish His purposes for you (Psalm 138:8). He makes everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3)- and that includes you and your family.
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