For the Silent Mothers

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Perhaps “silent mothers” is the wrong term to use, but I’m not sure what else to call it.  Quiet? Forgotten? Overlooked?

Whatever it is, I am one of them.  Mother’s Day is always hard for me because I feel cheated.  I should have a little one who brings me cards and gives me kisses on Mother’s Day, but I don’t.  It’s something not a lot of people know about me, but after almost 10 years, I think it’s time to come clean and not be afraid to talk about it anymore.

Sometimes I believe it’s better it worked out the way it did because me and the father never would have worked as a couple.  He was an okay guy, but he wasn’t the man for me.  I honestly don’t know that I’ll ever find ‘the one’ because I always get screwed over, but the last break-up..with him..was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced and I promised myself I’d never go through anything like that again.

Kind of like a miscarriage.

When I was found out I was pregnant I was scared and excited at the same time.  I was scared because I was only 20 years old.  Sometimes I get that mixed up.  Sometimes I think I was 20, other times I think I was 21…but I was definitely 20 when it happened.  Geez, it’s such a blur that I honestly can’t tell you half of what went on when I realized I was losing my baby.

It makes you angry.  It makes you question God and what he’s doing.  Why would he let me get my hopes up, fill my heart with love in anticipation of becoming a mother only to take it away from me?

What’s the point of going through the pains of labor if I don’t get to take a baby home with me?

It still brings tears to my eyes.  i still cry about it.  I dream about my baby sometimes, too.

Some people say that it doesn’t count if you miscarry early in pregnancy, but trust me, it does.  It still guts you and shreds you in a way that is beyond comprehension.  There is a pain that no one can possibly understand unless they have been through it, too.

When the doctor told me I was losing my baby, I held my stomach and cried.  I never got to experience that first ultrasound.  I never got to hear a heartbeat.  I never got to feel a tiny kick or paint a nursery.

But I did imagine how wonderful life would be with a child that had my eyes or my smile.  I thought about names and I had my heart set on Cameron for a boy and…well, I never came up with a girl name because I was confident I was having a boy.

My baby was going to arrive on September 9th, 2006.  He would have been born only a few short months before I turned 21.  I had already determined that even if the father didn’t want to be in my baby’s life, I’d be okay.  My family, well, the ones I was allowed to tell at that time, would help me.

My mother bought me maternity clothes.

I never got to wear them.

You just can’t understand this pain if you’ve never been through it.  I swear.  The tears randomly fall and the empty ache in your heart never goes away.

I feel robbed.  It’s not fair.

I would have been a good mom.  I would have done anything for my child.

I wanted to read him bedtime stories.  I wanted to take him to the park.  I wanted to teach him to ride a bicycle and I wanted his little paintings on my fridge.

But I never got it.

I haven’t tried since then.  I haven’t even been in a relationship because it scarred me in such a terribly profound way.

Mother’s Day is supposed to be a day of celebration for ALL mothers, but some of us get forgotten.  We are the ones who bow our heads and silently weep for children we never had a chance to hold.  We don’t get cards.  We don’t get flowers.

I did receive a card on the first Mother’s Day after my miscarriage and I still have it.  It was from my sister-in-law.  She said that all mothers needed to be celebrated and I still counted as one.

I’ll never forget that.

But it’s hard for this day to roll around, to see people posting pictures with their children, especially those who are around the age of what my child would have been.

8.  My child would be 8 right now.

I am so far off track from what I originally wanted to say.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the silent mothers.  To the ones who grieve the loss of an angel baby.  You are still a mommy, and trust me when I say your baby is waiting for you.  You’ll see them again one day.

But until then, know that I am thinking of you.  Know that you are not alone.  Your hurt is my hurt as mine is yours.  Like I said, no one can understand it unless they’ve been through it and it is not something I’d wish on anyone.

Happy Mother’s Day ❤


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