ME TOO

This month I'm posting a special guest blog for Mother's Day. Please note that the content includes triggers; reflections, personal experiences and emotions which some readers may find deeply upsetting.

I want to thank Life Begins for her bravery in sharing her story which she and I both hope will be a blessing to someone who reads it and an important reminder for all of us that Mother's Day is not an easy day for everyone.

ME TOO

When you hear those words what do you think?

My guess would be one of the 1st things that comes to mind is the ‘me too movement’; which has highlighted the number of women around the world who have been subjected to sexual harassment and/or sexual abuse.

In recent years there has been a lot of talk about historical sexual abuse and the true magnitude of this issue.

Statistically approximately 1 in 5 could stand up and say “me too” regarding harassment at work and 1 in 20 could say me too regarding sexual abuse. Although these statistics of course only include those who have stood up; the true figure may include many more.

Our awareness of this devastating issue has increased; our eyes have been opened and as such we are in a much better place to support these women. In my eyes that can only be a good thing.

However there is another “me too” that is not so openly talked about and is still only really mentioned in hushed whispers and behind closed doors, and it is much more common than you may think.

I guarantee every single person reading this knows someone who could call out this “me too”, be it within your family, or friendship circle, or maybe in your workplace. You may not know it but she’s there.

We are surrounded by people who hide their “me too”.

I am talking about those women who sit beside you at the sports stadium, the concert, the cinema, at your work place or your Sunday service, women whose hearts are filled with love for their child but whose arms are empty.

1 in 4 of the women around you have lost a child through miscarriage or still birth. (1in 5 if you only count the women who realise/report the miscarriage). 1 in 8 is struggling to conceive due to fertility issues. That’s 12.5% of women struggling to conceive a child and 20-25% of all pregnancies ending without a living child.

Just think about that for a moment, really think about it, an estimated 659 babies were miscarried or still born each *day* in 2017.

659.

That’s a huge number of women who long for a child who is not here.

I became one of those women just before Christmas when I delivered my son during my second trimester.

This coming Mother’s Day I would have been 35 weeks pregnant.

I had imagined going to church this Mother’s Day as a first time mother; my growing belly and extra weight a source of pride and joy.

I would probably be complaining about having a sore back or feet and heartburn or about feeling fat.

But my baby would be growing inside me and during the service I would feel him moving and kicking me, just as I was beginning to.

I would be feeling him poke his little feet up under my ribs, or him using my bladder as a trampoline.

I would receive smiles, advice and jokes about how ‘next year would be different’.

I would happily receive whatever little gift the church would have for each mother.

For I would *be* a mother.

Instead I will be empty.

Physically, emotionally, mentally and, dare I say it, perhaps even a little spiritually empty.

Inside and out.

I know Mother’s Day is hard for a lot of people for all sorts of reasons, but when that Sunday rolls around, the one that should be your very first mother’s day, and many are unaware you’ve ever carried a child, it is a silent and lonely place.

I would venture that many more people understand that place than you are aware.

I will grieve my child in silence. We will all grieve in silence.

We will grieve our missing motherhood and our stolen hopes and dreams in silence.

And that only makes it worse.

I am not married and, although very much loved and wanted, my son was not planned. Now, I wear my sin, my miscarriage and my longing almost like a badge. But it’s not a badge of strength; it is one of weakness.

I am so hopelessly lost in this dark cloud of pain and grief that I don’t know if I’ll be able to go worship God on that day because I know there will be reminders everywhere.

I absolutely hate where I am in this moment. I do not like it one little bit. I feel so trapped, alone and isolated, but what I also realise is this: I am not alone.

I will not be the only one who is hurting this Mother’s Day. It is a day we set aside to celebrate and show gratitude to mothers everywhere yet, for myself and many others, it serves as a reminder that I won’t hear my son call me Mama and that, to the world, I am not a mother.

Grief is a funny thing; while it is intensely private and personal it also opens your eyes and forces you to find others grieving for the same thing.

I suddenly see the thousands of other woman, many in my own family, who have walked this road before me or are walking it along with me now. There is a camaraderie; an instant connection, when I hear of another grieving mother. There is a strange but undeniable bond that forms when you look into the eyes of another broken, grieving soul and say “me too”.

For all of us who share this unwanted bond, be it from a lost pregnancy or the broken dream of a baby you been told you cannot carry, I see you. I know how your heart breaks each time you see the picture of a mother and her new born or the mother whose toddler showers her with sweet & sloppy kisses. I know how your heart feels squeezed in a vice when you see the Mother’s Day gifts and cards that you long to receive, in every store you enter.

I know this; because mine does too.

I yearn for it to be a happy day for everyone.

I wish each and every one of us could hold the babies we grew.

I wish everyone could watch their kids grow to be old.

I wish everyone could bring a baby home from the hospital.

I wish none of us knew this pain; but when Mother’s Day hurts, this is what I want you to know: it’s okay to be weak and you are not alone.

1. It’s ok to be weak.

2 Corinthians 12:9 says, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.”

The apostle Paul was suffering. He had begged for the Lord to remove his suffering at least three times. He knew he was weak. I have to think that there were times when he was frustrated, but, when he cried out to the Lord, the Lord did not remove his suffering. Instead the Lord reminds Paul that His grace is all he needs.

Paul believed that God’s grace was sufficient and he believed God would be his strength. He was content in his weakness and suffering, even saying He took pleasure in it, so that the Lord could work through him. “For when I am weak, I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10)

What does this mean for us?

Well, it means we don’t have to be strong. If my weakness means I sit at home and cry or if I manage go to church and sing (and probably cry) it doesn’t matter, because God’s power works in weakness. In fact God’s power doesn’t just work in our weakness - it works *best* in our weakness.

I would not make it through a single day without God as my strength. Some days I forget that I can lean on Him and His strength and try to do it alone. Those days are the hardest. It has taken a while but I have realised that I don't have to ask God for strength to continue; I just needed Him to *be* the strength. I don’t need to lift my head or carry this burden on my own for if I am His he will surely carry it for me, if I ask.

So when we feel weak as the motherhood we long for is everywhere you look: we get to be weak and God gets to be the strength. We just need to rest in that weakness.

2. You are not alone.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

I don’t think I can say this enough, or too much; so I say it one more time; you are NOT alone.

In the days and weeks after my miscarriage I searched for others who knew what I was walking through. I searched for online communities, forums, and other people’s blogs about their experiences. And, oh, what a blessing it was to search for what I was feeling and hear so many women say “me too.” These women got me.

I realise there are thousands of women dealing with this. I’ve already mentioned the statistics. Now, I am not saying we all have to publicise our pain on forums or blogs. It’s scary and it’s personal. I didn’t comment on any of the blogs or forums I read, not for one minute while reading the words of others who ‘got me’ did I think that in a matter of weeks I would be writing something of my own, so please don’t think I am saying you need to share your story this way (although, if you feel up to it, please do).

All I would say is to just keep your eyes open. Look for opportunities to reach out to someone who is hurting in the same way you have hurt. When we pray for opportunities to use our pain or suffering to help benefit someone else God always provides. In my experience it is not hard to connect with people who have miscarried, lost a child, or walked the painful road of infertility. You don’t need to make any grand gestures or speeches. All you need to do when you hear someone is on this journey; is say you’ve been there. Look them in the eye and simply say “me too.” Those two little words carry such weight, such comfort, like a hug or a security blanket.

Just two simple words.

They cut through the darkness that has surrounded me since I heard those other, awful, words, “I’m sorry,” and “no heartbeat”.

I believe it is our job to walk alongside one another; to help each other in this journey of life. God doesn’t want us to suffer. He doesn’t find any joy in our pain. But He can take our story and give something that feels so pointless a purpose (though we may not get to see that purpose in this life). Another woman looking me in the eye and saying ‘Me too’ gives me hope. Just like a lighthouse guiding a ship through stormy waters, those two simple words guide me. They guide me in the storm and give me some hope. They tell me I am not alone and I can survive this.

So today, in the midst of all this pain, I want to look all of you hurting in this way in the eye and say, “me too.”

And maybe, just maybe, today is the day you reach out to someone else who is hurting and simply say, “me too” too?