If I knew the right words I’d write them. But there are no words that could bring you comfort.
That doesn’t mean I won’t try to ease both of our broken hearts through my shaky hands and tear stained face.
Time may heal some wounds of this world but the grief of a mother’s heart being without her baby is a pain that you somehow learn to live with each day.
“If you’re a mother, Happy Mother’s Day!” my clients say with a smile.
I force a smile and nod along. But on the inside, I’m aching for the baby whose life ended too soon inside of me.
My heart shatters again knowing that my friends who birthed children that never were able to live, laugh or play..
And I think of the mothers who buried their babies— whether young or old, they were gone too soon. Because no mother should have to bury her baby.
Mommas— you are seen, known and loved. Your pain is valid, and you are not alone.
Your babies needed you— when they were living inside of you and when their life left you and this world.
They needed you then and they need you now.
They need you to live all your days persevering, growing, striving and ultimately living.
You are their momma.
They see you, know you, love you and are cheering you on every day you decide to live with the joy of their presence surrounding you.
Grief and joy can coexist. Don’t shame yourself for choosing to persevere.
Because when it’s my time to go, I can’t help but be comforted by a little voice I’ve never heard saying, “momma I’m so glad you’re here! You’ve lived your life and I was right there everyday. I’ve been with you always, and now we get to be together forever.”
But until that time God brings us home— we gotta keep pressing on for our babies, mommas.
We’ve got this. Because God has us. And all of the children who are no longer with us.
andrea statler 