Motherless on Mothers' Day
This is my first Mothers’ Day in 18 years without a fur baby. This is my umpteenth Mothers’ Day without human children. Thankfully, I still have my mother and two grandmothers. Being almost 43 and still childless sometimes makes me feel like I’m less valuable as a woman. Over the years, people have asked me why I don’t have children: “Did you not want children? Are you not able to have children?” I’ve wanted children and throughout most of my thirties, I wanted badly to be a mother. If I had a husband right now, I could probably have children. Surprisingly, I haven’t gone through “the change” yet. My mother was 39 when she went through it, so I assumed I would have already gone through it by now. When I’ve told people about wanting to have children someday, but don’t have a husband, here’s what I’ve been told: “You know, you can always adopt. You don’t have to have a man in order to have children. You can get artificially inseminated. Maybe, being a mother is not part of God’s plan for you.” This is why Mothers’ Day is hard for me at times. Seeing all these posts on Facebook of mothers with their children and showing off pictures of flowers and other Mothers’ Day presents from their children just makes me feel like I’m somehow missing out on something so great in life. I feel like I’m suffering in silence and just don’t want to be around people on this day. I feel as though most people don’t understand my pain.
Here’s what’s so strange right now. Yesterday, I did not think much about being motherless and over 40, though I was missing my fur babies (all in Heaven now). I was busy with other things such as the 2nd annual Gathering on the Plateau for local and regional Celebrate Recovery groups and my friend’s college graduation party. I was also thinking about what to give my mother and grandmother for Mothers’ Day without having to spend a lot of money. They are very simple and do not want much, so I honored that and blessed them with something sentimental.
This morning was a different story. I suddenly started feeling like I was less of a woman and not sure I wanted to be at church where flowers would be passed out to all the mothers. Though last year, the flowers were for ALL of the women, not just mothers. I was engaged at the time and had a fur baby (my fiance’s dog). Pastor expressed that Mothers’ Day should not be exclusive to mothers only. He mentioned an older single woman whom many consider a mother figure to a lot of people at Celebrate Recovery. I was grateful for his sermon because in the past I have had a negative Mothers’ Day experience at church. Sometimes, this memory hurts and I need to deal with it. About 13 years ago, I came to Carlsbad (now my hometown) to visit my parents for Mothers’ Day. I went to the church that was my home church before I moved to Las Cruces. Inside the foyer, a woman was passing out flowers. I grabbed one, then she said to me, “These are for mothers only.” She knew I didn’t have children. I told her that this flower was for my mother. She left it at that, but it still hurt. For years, I dreaded going to church on Mothers’ Day and any time I went, I somehow felt empty every time I had to listen to a sermon about how great it is to be a mother and how motherhood is God’s highest calling for women. Any time someone made an announcement for mothers to grab a rose, I stayed sitting. When the pastor would ask all women who were mothers to stand up, sometimes I would be the only woman of childbearing age sitting down.
Ten years ago, I will never forget the kindness of a young man (he probably wasn’t even 20) who was at the sound booth in the balcony close to where I sat. I had already decided to remain in my seat when the mothers were called to pick a rose. I felt God nudging me to get up and grab a rose. “I can’t,” I argued with Him. “I’m not a mother.” “Someday you will be,” I heard Him whisper. Yet, I still argued with Him, then I said, “Okay, God. I’ll get up when someone instructs me to do so.” Not even a minute passed by when that young man at the sound booth said to me, “Go get yourself a flower.” I told him I wasn’t a mother. He said, “They won’t mind.” I went downstairs and picked a flower for myself. I think I grabbed a second one to give to my mother as well. In spite of the kindness of this young man, I still struggle with my value as a woman on Mothers’ Day.
Here’s the irony: I don’t know if I even want children anymore. I would be content to be a stepmother, but I’m not sure I even want to start a family at my age. Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the Bible story of Sarah millions of times. I don’t need to be told that she was 90 when she gave birth to Isaac. I’m almost halfway to 90 and I don’t have the same desire to have a baby like I did 10 years ago. If it’s meant to happen, great. However, I’m not anticipating it. I’ve been single again for almost a year now. Though I've been fine most of the time, today I felt like I lost my chance for marriage and a family. I was so close to it happening, but it wasn’t meant to be at that time.
Meanwhile, I’m making the most of my free time. In addition to my afternoon part-time job as a writing tutor at the college, I will take on a morning babysitting job this summer for two school-aged children. This opportunity is an awesome blessing for me and will give me the chance to put my nurturing spirit to use. Maybe, I will have another fur baby soon. No matter what society and the Church says about women without children, God sees me as valuable. I just have to keep reminding myself of that regardless of my circumstances. Tomorrow, I’m sure my mind will be focused on other things such as a week off from work. This means time for some much-needed decluttering and housework, as well as recreational time with friends.
Here’s a link to an excellent article about being single and childless. It spoke to me and helped me to realize that I’m not alone:
