Why Can’t I Have a Flower on Mother’s Day?

As I was getting dressed for church, I winced when I turned on the TV and heard the morning news. How could I have forgotten? I knew it was coming all week. I even played around with the idea that maybe I just wouldn’t go to church today. I don’t know if I can stand it one more year! The day of the year women look forward to most, I loathed. It was mother’s Day once again.

Once again after seven years of trying to become a mother, I still was not one. My husband and I had exhausted practically every treatment effort, short of in vitro fertilization. We had even gone down a couple of adoption paths, empty-handed. At times our hope had diminished to a faded glimmer of life with an extended family. Year after year I wondered—was I ever going to be able to receive a flower of my own on Mother’s Day?

As we arrived at church, my husband whispered to me to go find us a seat. He claimed that he needed to make a stop at the bathroom. I found us a pew and began to kneel, "Please, Lord," I prayed, "let me be a mother soon! I can barely take this emptiness anymore! Why won’t you answer our prayers?!" My anger and discouragement had become more evident by now, but I wasn’t going to lose faith in Him, either. I had already learned this lesson from previous trials in my life. "Fine!" I prayed. "If you won’t answer our prayers, then just let me know why we can’t have a baby – we deserve that! You know we do!" Tears rolled down my face as I broke down completely in church. I quickly wiped them away as the lecturer instructed us to stand for the beginning of mass. My husband, whose long disappearance I hadn’t even noticed, slipped quietly in the pew next to me.

The end of mass drew near. Somehow Father got all the way through the sermon without even mentioning Mother’s Day. However, I knew by now that the dreaded moment had arrived. As our priest approached the podium I picked up a copy of our church’s announcement listings. Jeez! Even inside of this I couldn’t get a break! There in big bold letters at the top of the page read "Happy Mother’s Day!"

I tried not to concentrate on what the pastor was saying, but his words rang in my ears nevertheless: "Today we honor our mothers. Those who have given of their time and love to make us better people. For those of you who are mothers, you know how hard it is to maintain that special balance of patience, persistence and unconditional love. At this time I’d like to recognize all these women by having them stand. So women, whether it be that you are first-time mothers, grandmothers, stepmothers, or you who will be mothers – including those in our congregation who are currently pregnant or those who so desperately want to be a mother, but are finding it a bit difficult to become one – please stand up and be recognized for your efforts. Please also don’t forget to take a flower as you leave today." "Wait a minute!" I thought. "Did he say "Those who WANT to be mothers?" He couldn’t have said that! Did I imagine it? But just then, my husband nudged me…"Honey, stand up!"

I slowly and hesitantly did. It felt so awkward and weird. Could people tell? I was almost embarrassed to do so. After all, where was my child? Wait a minute, I thought…no one knows that we’re having problems or knows that I am not pregnant. Upon rising, however, I felt a genuine warmth come over me. I was finally getting some sort of recognition for our efforts. (Even though we hadn’t quite attained our goal, yet.) I suddenly realized that trying to become a mother had taken a lot more on our part that a majority of the other women who were standing. I also realized that, because of this trial, my husband and I had grown and would be better parents someday, than if we hadn’t gone through this ordeal. Through all of our waiting, we had grown. We had gained a higher level of patience. We had learned to endure as a couple through the hardest times. We had learned to accept those things over which we had no control. Perhaps most of all, we had grown closer to God – together. An unexpected smile appeared on my face. I do deserve this, I realized. I will not only be a mother someday, but a very good mother at that!

As we left church, my husband waded through the crowd to claim my flower. As he handed the pretty pink carnation to me he whispered, "Here you go, mommy."

I asked him if he thought it was strange for Father to have made the remark he did about women who wanted to be mothers, but couldn’t. "No," was his only reply, as he looked deep into my eyes and smiled.