On Mother’s Day, 4 years ago, Drake and I shocked our families by announcing that I was pregnant. We had known for over 2 weeks that I was expecting our first child, but had kept the news quiet in anticipation of the forthcoming holiday set aside to celebrate motherhood.
Upon opening their gifts, I don’t think either of them could have been more astounded and surprised. Their excitement over this new soul was effusive and included exhilaration over my upcoming life as a member of their most treasured club-the “Club of Moms.”
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The little baby developing in my womb would soon be known as my Jud Bud.
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Today is Mothers’ Day, exactly 4 years later, and I have experienced every mother’s greatest imaginable fear-the loss of my precious child.
There will be no handprint picture, or finger-painted card, or even a “Happy Mothers’ Day!” greeting from my beloved boy…just a gaping hole left by the sweet little man who introduced me to motherhood.
This day hurts.
Rather than feeling the honor on the occasion, it accentuates my brokenness and reminds me that I am now part of the most dreaded club-the “Grieving Mothers Club.”