I can't forget.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day and this year I'll experience it like I never have before. From this year forward, Mother's Day will never have the same meaning for me as it has in years past. For most of my high school and college years, it was a day to pamper my mother but it was also a day that held so much fear and hard questions; was God really good enough to give me my own kids one day and if He didn't, could I still follow Him? And of course the last years where Mother's day was a blatant reminder of how empty my own arms were standing amongst full arms and packed mini vans.

As much joy and utter gratefulness that this year has brought me, I've been struggling with a small load of guilt; survivor's guilt you could say. I feel almost hesitant to be happy and to celebrate this day to the fullest while I know so, so many woman are just clenching theirs eyes shut and begging for the holiday to be over already.

I may be on the other side of my small battle with infertility but I can't forget its pain; and I don't want to forget.

In the very thick of my battle, almost a year ago to the day, I had one particular hopeful day tucked in amongst the bad and it was then that I scribbled these thoughts in my notebook:

05.13.18

"I don't want to forget this desperate, deep, ache-filled longing. Regardless of how many more months we'll have to face before our family begins, whether few or many, I don't ever want to forget what the waiting and wanting feels like.

The craving for little lives is deep and planted in you from the time you messily swaddle your first doll. It's a desire that can't be quenched and refuses to be left alone. The wait is longer than most waits. Each negative stings deeper, every announcement hits harder and every curious "When will you have kids?" burns longer. You desperately want anyone to understand how badly you want these babies that you've held in your heart for years already.

Worries eat you alive and Google is fast fuel to anxiety. You want to stop forcing painful smiles when you have to hang around new moms and growing bellies. The unfairness creeps up so strong and threatens to make you lash out at God.

I don't want to forget these feelings, so that one day when I meet that girl who is in the midst of it all, I can be there for her. She may have many moments when she doesn't even want to see me if I already have my babies then, but I can still pray and fight for her from afar with more than just sympathetic words; I can fight for her with a deeply rooted understanding of her pain.

I want these hard months I've faced to imprint in me something that can help lighten the weight from her shoulders.

I want to remind her breaking heart that God know's the date her infertility will end.

I want to remind her that just because it's happening for someone else, it isn't taking anything away from her.

I want to remind her that our God does the impossible in the face of all diagnoses, logistics and technicalities.

I want to remind her that her babies will enter the world at the exact time they are needed to be lights for their generation.

I want to remind her that one day she WILL look up and see her full family sitting before her.

I never want to forget."

...

Reader, whoever you are, I want to remind your heart of a couple things as this Mother's day is upon us. These thoughts were the lifelines and breaths of fresh air that God handed me throughout our journey to baby. Whether your fight right now is towards motherhood or not, these truths can be applied to every worn down, "in-the-waiting" heart.

Remember...You serve an anyway God and He can be trusted with an anyway faith.

Abraham & Sarah, Zechariah & Elizabeth were way past child-bearing years but God gave them sons anyway.

Rebekah, Rachel, Hannah, Manoah & his wife, and the Shunamite woman were all barren but God gave them all children anyway.

There is no limit that can stop God, He works miracles in our anyway situations. No matter the weight and reality of our situation, we have to trust Him anyway, love Him anyway, serve Him anyway and accept His blessings anyway.

Remember...Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever.

The same Jesus who wept with Mary and Martha when their hearts were breaking (even though he knew the glorious outcome), is the same Jesus who weeps with you over another hope scattering doctor's appointment. The same Jesus who held tight to Peter's hand as the storm raged on is the same Jesus who won't let go of you when fear tries to drag you down with intentions to never let you re-surface again.

Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Remember...When hope is scarce read Luke 24:6.

"He is not here, He has risen!" Allow those words alone to lift your head and move your feet a few steps further. Death and all the power of Hell couldn't stump Jesus, what makes you think that your illness, infertility, deepest longing, or strongest anxiety could stop him? Sit with the reality of "He has risen" and present your request to that same God.

Remember...God's amazing, all sufficient grace.

Whatever the specifics of your struggle, you can rely of the sufficiency of God's grace to be enough. It is strong enough and real enough for you. It is made perfectly powerful in your weakness. (See 2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

God knows you can't earn His favor, so with a heart bursting with love for you, He grants grace. Some days on the journey are easier than others; some days you actually feel convinced you will come out of this trial stronger and you can breath easy for a moment. But then comes the next day when someone clueless says something innocent yet deeply hurtful, and suddenly it's a day where you feel you'll crumble under the burden of uncertainty and unfulfilled dreams. Even on the hardest days, there is one powerful reality you can depend on: God's amazing, all sufficient grace.

...

My journey with infertility was, in retro-spec, so much shorter and easier than even handfuls of couples I know personally, let alone the thousands on thousands more struggling through the most dire circumstances. But no matter the length of my timeline, I knew true depths of its pain and that is a pain I choose to never forget.

To every set of empty arms that will be hurting a little extra on this Mother's day, your pain is not unnoticed and your strength is exceptional. Whatever your battle looks like, know that my heart breaks with yours and I will fight either near or far with you in prayer, believing in our God who does the impossible.

Choose to never forget the glorious, maybe even taken-for-granted, answers to prayer you are now on this side of; then with any amount of faith you can muster, believe that God will do it again for you.