Still Missed

There are three days of the year when I miss Emily and William. March 9, August 19 and today. You never met them. I was the only one who knew them, but I did love them, even for such a very short time. They were my children. I never got to hold them, and didn’t know their sex, but I had chosen those names for them, so I think of them as Emily and William.  As I wrote some years ago, the burden of their loss has long been lifted from my shoulders, but on the days when they died I always remember. And today. Mother’s day. I miss a hug and a kiss and even miss opening a present. I miss them. I always have and I always will. Sometimes I look at 15 year olds and I imagine how they might have been.

At times,  on Mother’s Day,  I feel like Hannah when her husband asked: “Aren’t I better than 10 sons?”. Silly question. Who would even be crazy enough to trade one for another? Apples and oranges! But that is the kind of feeble attempt that so many people make. I accept people’s good will with their good intents. I don’t ask for sympathy, though, just an acceptance of the fact that my children are missed by me. That I miss being loved in that kind of way. Lots of women do. We go on with our lives. We are happy and content. But trust me, Mother’s Day is never totally easy for us.

As Romans tells us, I rejoice with those who rejoice. I am joyful to have a WONDERFUL mother. I am happy for all the Mother’s who celebrate with their family. I even held a newborn today and had a “happy dance” with the Mother, as she celebrates her very first mother’s day! My heart overflows for her happiness.

I guess, however, we all have a harder time weeping with those who weep and we want to offer lots of consolation and make it all fine. I understand that. I know I have lots of spiritual children. I know I have been blessed in a million ways. I love my life. I AM happy. I don’t need to be made to feel better. I just need people to understand that I am not angry. I am not bitter. I am not regretful. I am not even hurt. I just have this sadness for having missed out on being a Mother. I need the freedom to say that. If you want to weep with me, you can, but please don’t take away my right to mourn my loss. Today, once again, I trust my children to the hands of my Heavenly Father. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.