I usually so enjoy Mother's Day. My kids...they are so amazing. They and my husband always go over and beyond to make me feel special, rested, and pampered on this day. My kids make me a menu every year, and I get to order my breakfast that is then lovingly made by their little hands. There was the usual assortment of handmade crafts and cards...the kinds that moms treasure so much, plus a beautiful silver heart pendant that my kids saved and bought with their own money (thank you Dave Ramsey). It is beautiful! This year my son had gotten an In-and-Out gift card for a prize so he took the family out to lunch (Mother's Day is a great day to go to In-and-Out, by the way...no crowds!). Dan made an amazing dinner for us, kids did all the dishes, I took a nap...my family did everything possible to tell me how much I'm loved. I did feel loved. I treasure my family so much.
Except, this year, I was shrouded by this sadness that I couldn't explain at first. It started when I woke up to sweet faces kissing me and telling me "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!" I wanted to revel in their love, but I couldn't shake this icky feeling. What was wrong with me?
When I got to church, I was greeted by many well wishers and I wished them a happy day as well. Smiles all around! But again, inside, something was off. I couldn't place it.
Dan began preaching this amazing sermon about how Jesus transformed how the world viewed women forever. He spoke of how our value is placed on us simply because we were formed in the image of God, and we are to value all women, whether they are mothers or not, rich or poor, married or single, working or stay at home...God loves us all! It was a great sermon, but as he spoke I could feel a rising tide of tears welling up in my chest. Not happy tears. Sad, aching tears. The kind the pastor's wife doesn't want to be shedding in the front row.
Then Dan began to speak of the "least of these"...those women who have been stripped of their value by our world...the trafficked, those killed through genocide, those aborted due to their gender...millions of girls who should be and yet are completely unaccounted for...here comes the tide...vanished...it's in my throat...abandoned. That was it...I was done. Dan projected a picture of our own daughter, Ai Lan, abandoned at three months, and I couldn't hold it back any more. I bawled like a baby right there in the front row with the whole congregation politely averting their eyes, I'm sure.
The purpose of Dan putting up that picture was to illustrate the redemptive power of adoption and mentoring, and of restoring value again...but unintentionally, it only served to focus the cause of my unease. On this Mother's Day, my daughter is still motherless. She has no idea she has been chosen to be parented. They haven't told her that yet. She is still wondering, "Does anyone want me?" And I want so much to wrap her in a huge hug and kiss her chubby cheeks and tell her over and over the she is wanted, chosen, loved...but all I feel is the gigantic hole in my heart that even the sweetest intentions of my biological kids and husband cannot fill. My daughter, the one that I pray for, dream about, and plan for, is still, well, an orphan.
And somewhere, there is a mother who I'm sure is wondering, "What has happened to my daughter?" We do not know the circumstance behind why she was abandoned in the woods one day. Our caseworker said they have often found that in China, when a baby is abandoned at a day or two old, it is often the parents doing the abandoning, but when it is a baby found after that, as Ai Lan was found at 3 months old, it is often a family member who took the baby and did the abandoning. We cannot ever know for sure why Ai Lan was left that day, but whatever the circumstances, I do believe that parents, whether they do the abandoning or not, feel a sense of loss either way. I think that yesterday, a part of me was mourning not just for the fact that I have a child in China that I cannot hold for many more months, but I was also mourning for a mother who will never again hold that beautiful girl. I cannot even imagine the suffering that must bring to her heart and soul.
And, I'm not quite sure if this feeling will ever truly go away each Mother's Day. As Ai Lan grows, will she question each and every Mother's Day, if not many days in between, "Why didn't my biological family want me?" I can almost guarantee that at some level she will wonder this. And I will allow her those feelings. I will validate them. I will cry with her and rock her and tell her I don't know why, that it totally stinks, and that I'm so sorry for her loss.
It is the first time that Mother's Day hurt. I've been enjoying this day for 12 years...since I was only 22 years old. Four times I have marveled not only at the children around my ankles, but the ones in my womb...kicking and turning and getting hiccups. I've never had trouble getting pregnant. Never lost a baby through miscarriage. Always, Mother's Day has been a source of joy for me. But yesterday, I got a very real glimpse into the lives of those women who suffer on this day...who mourn the loss of a child...who mourn infertility. To those women I say, God's peace to you. I wish I could hug you and tell each and every one of you that I don't know why, that it totally stinks, and that I'm so sorry for your loss.
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