Magnolias on Mother's Day


It was May 7, 2016. The Saturday before Mother's Day. We decided we wanted to plant a Magnolia tree in our front yard and so we spent the day shopping for our perfect tree and then we came home and found just the right spot for it to grow. We knew if we had a daughter someday that she'd be named Magnolia, if we had a son he'd be named after my grandpa. That Saturday we were counting down the days until our IVF transfer, we had one perfect embryo in the freezer waiting for us. We had ten days until our scheduled transfer.




Our thoughts and conversations revolved around our son or daughter that was only six days old and frozen in time! Ryan never ever travels on Sundays, but this one weekend, he had to leave on Sunday. On Mother's Day. My emotions were strong and my hopes were high, and there were stings of fear tangled in with my faith. I remember the morning Ryan had to leave for the airport, I remember it like it was yesterday. I had a knot in my stomach thinking that I'd spend Mother's Day alone, as all my friends and sisters spent the day with their babies. I'd never been one to allow jealousy to rob my joy, I'd always lived with so much gratitude that it was impossible. This Mother's Day was different.

As Ryan was leaving I followed him through the kitchen to our garage door. I met him at the doorway and we hugged. My eyes filled with tears. I didn't have to say a thing, he knew my thoughts. He wiped my tears away and said, "babe, next year you'll be a Mother, and we'll celebrate you with our baby!" He said it with so much faith and confidence that I believed him with all my heart. I could really see Mother's Day the next year. I kissed him good-bye with a small smile on my face.

He left and I went into the living room. I sat quietly, experiencing what I prayed was my last silent Mother's Day. I allowed myself a few hours to mourn what I didn't have. I spent the day in quiet prayer and I let Ryan's words play in my mind over and over again.

I read this article the other day, A Note To Women Yearning To Be Moms on Mother's Day, this part I had to share,
The truth is, there’s nothing anyone can say that will make you feel miraculously better this Mother’s Day. It’s going to hurt, mostly because you want it so bad. And it’s not fair. And you shouldn’t have to fight this hard. And having the reminder of what you don’t have shoved in your face by well-meaning friends and family who don’t even realize how lucky they are is the worst. Even though they certainly don’t have any intention of hurting you, and their happiness isn’t what has caused your grief, it still hurts.
Infertility is painful. That's all there is to it. As with any struggle in life, sometimes it helps just to know someone else understands. That is why I'm sharing this story today. For the women waiting for their babies, Mother's Day is going to open that missing piece of their heart wide open. My thoughts and prayers will be for all those women this year.

This Mother's Day I'm going to do what I do each and every day and thank the Lord above for answering our prayers for Magnolia. I'm going to take a moment to show Magnolia the tree we planted on my last silent Mother's Day as we dreamed she'd one day be in our arms. Ryan and Magnolia, my everything, I'm going to hug them tight and kiss them all day long.

I took my troubles to the Lord; I cried out to him, and he answered my prayers. Psalm 120:1
Love xo
Wen
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Wendy Correen Smith
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