It is the night before Mother’s Day. For some reason my mind traveled to a time period fourteen years ago. I was a young mom about to hear my daughter’s diagnosis. With time wisdom grows. It’s through this wisdom that I wish I could have shared these few thoughts with that mom I was back then.
Dear Younger Self-
I know you forgot what today is, but let me gently remind you. It’s Mother’s Day. Don’t put your head down in shame. I know you’ve lived with your mother for the past several weeks. I know you forgot to buy even a simple card to thank her for her selflessness. For all the drives to the city, waits in the hospital, and the endless cooking she has done for you. I know you wish your husband and almost two-year old son were with you instead of back in China. The hospital visits and tests have taken a toll on your mind and body. It’s a scary place to be. You’ve talked with doctors, and even specialists. You’ve held your baby while nurses have poked her with needles. Yet, still no results. No diagnosis.
Emotions will visit you, strong emotions that will come when you least expect it.
Don’t play the “What if” game. It will open wide the door to Fear. But, I know you will. The questions will come at you like quick shooting arrows. “What if she never walks?” “What if she dies?” “What if we have to leave China?” Don’t worry; he gets the best of me still today with his quiet whispers of doubt. Fear wants to consume you, but he won’t. Your daughter will get the diagnosis you don’t want to hear – Cri-du-Chat Syndrome. Your mother will be next to you in that small room in shock. Maybe it is a mother’s instinct, or maybe not – but you won’t be shocked because deep down you already know. Your world will be shaken though. Your baby will need a feeding tube. You will feel like all the air was taken from your lungs. Sit tight – the God who created that bundle of joy topped with red curls already knew. He’s not surprised. So, just breathe – in and out, in and out. You will feel like waves are pummeling you to the bottom of the sea, but dive deep into those waves. It is there where you will find peace. Dive deep into the peace that passes all understanding, the peace that comes from our Lord Jesus Christ. Just breathe.
Grief will come, in fact, she already has. This Mother’s Day you will grieve for that child you thought you knew. You will cry hot tears that seem to never run dry. They are tears of healing. Release them. Let them wash over your face while they wash over your heart. I wish I could tell you that Grief eventually exits your life, but I can’t. She will come back when you least expect it. Fourteen years later, she still visits me. When I see other kids in middle school laughing with their friends at the local 7-11 or tying up their shoes about to play in a soccer tournament, she comes back. My throat tightens and my eyes begin to drip tears. And there she is. Grief dressed in black. I’m learning that Joy can accompany Grief. It is those times I offer gratitude and praise that Joy is also there. I give thanks for what Matthea can do and I praise God for his many blessings in our life. So, as you grieve this Mother’s Day know that “joy will come in the morning.”
This Mother’s Day you will feel lonely. Uwe and Marcus are miles away. You feel like you are the only one going through this, yet you know that is not true each time you enter the hospital. But, Loneliness comes and tries to squeeze out those in your life who love you. Don’t let her. Remind yourself that you are not alone. God is there with you. Your family is there. And remember your friends just drove a few hours to spend time with you. They are praying for you. Don’t let Loneliness crowd out the others.
Yes, you will feel guilt. Guilt will overshadow Grief. Guilt will remind you of friends who have lost children. Guilt will point a finger and say, “You’re child is living. Why are you grieving?” You won’t really know what to do with Guilt. You will try to hide Grief, but it will still be there. I want to give you permission to block Guilt out of your life. You have permission to grieve. This diagnosis is hard. There are a lot of unknowns. It is scary. So, don’t believe Guilt. Pray for those friends and be sensitive when you talk with them, but don’t bow down to Guilt.
You may not feel like there is any hope right now, but she is there. Hope will come pouring in when you find out that you can go back to China. Hope will come when you gain confidence in using the feeding tube. And even this day, Hope will come in a form of a Mother’s Day gift from your sister. A small cut rock that says, “A Mother’s Love begins long before we can remember…And brings us Warmth and Happiness We Never Forget.”
Give yourself some grace today. Your love for your children comes through. I can’t tell you that everything is perfect and life is like a rose garden. Life isn’t easy. I mean whose life really is easy, huh? But, life is good and full. I can’t tell you all the great things because you need to experience some surprises in life.
I wish that the decade older version of me would send me a letter like this. I sure would like to know how these teenage years turn out.
Your loving “more mature” self,