For moms on Mother's Day

After you read this sentence, promise to keep reading, because I know how it sounds: I always knew that I was going to be a girl mom. It’s one of those rare things that, though I didn’t know it at the time, God promised me when I was young. (Stay with me!) I knew I would have a daughter and she would be the fulfillment of a desire I wasn’t old enough to fully understand at the time. I knew Marlee would be who she is before she was born. It’s a weird thing to say and I don’t know how to explain it outside of a picture God gave me. (If you’ve been here for a minute you know I am not the type of person to attribute every thought, desire or action to God. I probably err on the side of not overspiritualizing things which is why this stands out so much to me.) Even when I was pregnant with Margot, I didn’t have the exact same certainty in details, but I knew she was a girl, too. This was the mom God had wired me up to be and I knew it - at a deeper level than just an interest in clothes and accessories, though they are such fun bonuses.

At the risk of overstating, this was not of my own doing. God did not give me these girls because I was a good Christian. God did not give me these girls because I fasted and prayed to have daughters. God did not give me these girls because I believed fiercely enough in Psalm 37 that God would give me the desires of my heart. (That’s not what that verse even means, BTW.) One day He gave me a picture of my future, and it was little girls. Because that’s what He chose to do. It had nothing to do with me.

I say this because having kids feels lucky. When you think of all the things that have to be in perfect alignment to create a baby, it’s truly a miracle every time. But another miracle is that I didn’t have to battle with the science of biology or find myself longing for a prophesy unfulfilled.

If you’re a mother celebrating this weekend, revel in all of it. Take in the crafts and cards made by tiny hands. Eat every bit of every food at brunch. Capture it all in photos that may never find life outside your phone storage. Look at the faces of your children in awe and delight and let your heart bubble over with gratitude at the blessing they are in your life.

If you’re a single mom, make your own celebration. I know it’s not the same as having someone celebrate you by making the plans in your honor. But you are just as worthy of being celebrated as any other mom in a “traditional,” nuclear family. Go to lunch, order in, Door Dash your favorite coffee drink. Book yourself a facial, nail appointment, rage room…whatever will make you feel special. Because you are. You don’t need to explain yourself, your story or your situation to anyone. You were meant to be a mother to that child and God is going to continue to work in both of your lives. If you can’t do it on Sunday, do it Monday. Do it next week. Do it in August. But do it for yourself to remember what an incredibly impactful role you are fulfilling.

Do not hold back in celebrating the miracle of motherhood. Be empowered in all you get to be and do through your children. See the hope and potential of lives you get to mold and lead as you entrust them to God, who, by the way, is already speaking to and guiding them. Be the parent you wished you’d had or needed when you were a kid and love the absolute stinking mess out of them however that looks for your family. Spoil them. Love them. And tell them how much you love being their mother.

You can hold space for the people in your life who haven’t been lucky enough to wear the title of motherhood while also being insanely grateful for your own experience. It’s a tension, but it’s manageable. We rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. It’s both and, not either or. You can love people well without minimizing how grateful you are for the tiny (or not so tiny) humans you get to call yours.