Unsaid

Decades ago, Donna walked into church on a Mother’s Day. A greeter said, “Happy Mother’s Day!”

She had no children. Alex had just died.

She gave the polite grin and sat down. The announcements honored the day. The pastor asked mothers to stand, and each one received a gift. Then came the contests: most kids, youngest mom, oldest mom. The sermon was about the blessing of children and the special role mothers carry in a family.

Donna did not disagree with any of it.

It is the unsaid.

She tells me what she is thinking, including about those services. If children are a blessing, why did mine die? I would love to be a mom. I have tried for years. The one child I have was conceived after months of intense drug therapy. Why can prostitutes and meth addicts get pregnant when I am not worthy of a child?

She stopped going to Mother’s Day services after Alex died. She returned for a few years after Caleb was born. The second prolonged infertility shut the door again. Then the adoption failures. Then Emily, the daughter we miscarried in 2009.

Then Caleb in 2018.

Each loss closed the door further. Caleb’s sealed it.

People ask why we do not come to church on Mother’s Day. The friends who understand do not ask. Others tell us God has a plan. We have read the plan. It has been to take children, not give them.

It’s not that the day holds no joy though. Donna enjoys her children honoring her at home. Madi gave her a big gift basket Friday night.

Donna has been a mother thirty-five years to Alex, Caleb, Madi, and Emily. It’s hard when three of them are gone.