Figuring out what to write about not being able to have a second child is hard. It’s more of a coffee shop conversation thing than a blog post, you know? There’s so much on the interwebs about infertility, but I don’t know a single woman who doesn’t find it hard to talk about. It’s just so raw.

On top of that, I’ve already been blessed with one child, which may make it hard for others to understand why it’s a big deal or, worse, wound someone who is struggling to have their first child. So there’s that. It’s a complicated topic.

So hello, draft number 7? 8? I’ve tried to write on this topic. I already wonder if you’ll see the light of day. Starting paragraph 3 by personifying you is not a promising start…

But I did want to write because I know this holiday, like so many others, is hard for those who have experienced loss. Whether the loss of a dream (like me), the loss of your own mother or the loss of children, holidays have a way of reminding you who *isn’t* there.

In previous years, I’ve tried to cling to the people I do have, my own wonderful mother is still alive and able to talk on the phone with me about her next visit and my incredible son is here to cover me with snuggles and love. There is tremendous joy in those things and I am so so deeply grateful.

But at the end of the night, after the phone calls are made and the last kiss has been given, I sit down and see photo after photo of friends my age who have completed their 2-3 child family in the time since we’ve had Caleb, and suddenly that comfort feels a little hollow.

I’ve noticed in these days leading up to Mother’s Day this year that I feel different. We’ve now not only walked through 2+ years of preventing having another child due to my chronic pain, but seeing God answer the prayer, “Lord, if, and only if, it is good, grant us another child.” with, “No, it is not good.” for nearly a year. As the months pass, I find myself trusting that my Heavenly Father truly does know what is *good* in a deeper way than ever before.

Not because I can list out a bunch of earthly reasons that I can see (though I can see a few) but because He did not spare his own Son for me, while I was yet His enemy. He’s already loved me, already given me the gift I most needed- Himself. I can trust that when I ask for bread, he does not give me a stone.

Don’t get me wrong, I still cry over what isn’t almost every month. I journal and pray and pin sad art prints on pinterest (on a private board). But I feel sure in these times that God does indeed keep track of all my sorrows and hold all my tears in a bottle, numbered. I know that no pain, no infertility has come into my life that has not passed through his inspecting, loving, fatherly gaze and I am truly able to say, this Mother’s Day,

“Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee,
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not,
As Thou hast been,Thou forever wilt be.

Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!”