I sat in many rooms with mothers this week. Some have toddlers. One had a runaway teen. Some have superstars. Others haven’t spoken to their adult children in years. However, the common theme is how our mother hearts carry at once complete joy and desperate pain.
This ache applies to birth moms, adopted moms, infertile moms, and post-abortive moms. The good moms and bad moms. The “I wish I had done better” moms and the “I did all I could” moms. It is also deeply true of single women who never bore physical children, yet are mothers to so many souls.
Women are created to be life-givers. It’s in our divine DNA. We know how to keep loving and keep hurting at the same time, much like the Holy Spirit does. Our Holy Mother keeps working, keeps longing for God’s children to come home.
When my own children were breaking my heart, a friend told me to breathe through the pain just like I did during delivery. “You are just having spiritual contractions,” she said. The Lord and I kept chewing on that word. What if the wrenching process of childbirth is a prophetic act that speaks to us again and again throughout our lives? In all the seasons of motherhood.
When a woman discovers she is pregnant, it is a time-stopping moment. Unspeakable joy for some, unspeakable terror, shock for others.
As the baby grows inside her, mom’s own body shifts, organs move to make space, and she sacrifices whatever is needed. It is in our biological makeup to be fluid for this new life. I wonder if the reason women sometimes struggle to stand our ground with our kids is due to a hangover from this precious season of compromise.
Then, mom approaches delivery, swollen and tired, to endure another inevitable moment. She faces two opposing realities: I don’t want to endure the pain of delivery. And. I don’t want to be pregnant anymore.
Thankfully, God has orchestrated a chemical and hormonal system to help her complete the daunting task. So baby begins a deliberate journey of entering the world, and mom begins a deliberate journey of releasing her child from her tender shelter.
With every contraction, the reality of letting go tears at her inner core, much like the baby pushing out tears her cervix. Even in a Cesarean, a woman is literally cut open.
Sounds graphic. It is.
Bloody, violent, screaming, tears. Intense pain.
And then, the moment of deafening silence.
Isn’t it the oddest thing? Waiting for the new arrival to cry.
We wait for the baby to cry while mom cries too.
Two people. Two hearts. Both rejoicing. Both crying.
As one woman said last night about her broken relationship, “I will always be her mother. I will always love my child.” The joy and pain never leaves. Never. Subsides.
This Mother’s Day, take a deep breath. Whether your arms are full or not, your efforts are rewarded or not, your heart rejoices or weeps — You are held. You are loved. You are seen and celebrated.
The Holy Spirit knows all about the trials and triumphs of raising kids — wink. And, your Holy Mama knows better than anyone how to comfort a woman’s heart.
