Mother’s Day has been a minefield for me over the years. As year after year went by without pregnancies or worse, failed IVF and early miscarriages, I dreaded Mother’s Day.

I would send my cards and organize lunches, but inside, a part of me would cry and hide from the pain of not being a mother on this day of all days of the year. I often hid in my house, not wanting to have to go out and see the mothers with their children, celebrating being a mother, celebrating their joy while breaking down inside from the pain and fear that I would never be able to celebrate. this day.

I remember Mother’s Day 2012 very clearly. Trip and I were on a test hunt in rural Maryland, right over the Delaware border. It may even have been Delaware, actually. We left around noon on Sunday to go home and decided to stop 30 minutes or so away at an IHOP type place for brunch.

Trip was parking the car when I walked in to get us a table. The waitress greeted me with a big smile and a very enthusiastic “Happy Mother’s Day!”

I almost collapsed on the ground. No, I’m not a mother. Wait, I take that back. I’ve been a mom for about two to seven days more times than I’d like to think. I’ve come close to being chosen by a birth mother a few times so far, only for her to change her mind or choose someone else.

In fact, I’ve been trying to be a mother for 10 years, but I’m not really… and I’m afraid I’ll never be.

But, instead of saying all that, I just smiled and let him lead me to a booth while digging my nails into my palm as I wished the tears would stop.

As soon as Trip got to the table, I apologized and nearly ran to the bathroom, finally crying out. Bread. The fear. The crushing agony of this day.

I made my required phone calls that day, then hid and waited for Monday to arrive. Glorious Monday.

That day stands out in my mind so vividly for many reasons. In addition to the above, it’s also because it was the last Mother’s Day I spent NOT being a mother.

We found out about Kennedy’s pregnancy on my dad’s birthday (July 11) and our birth mother chose us the next day, July 12. Kennedy was born 2.5 months later, on September 22.

And then, just like that, I was a mom. I. After 10 Mother’s Days, it was a mom.

Ironically, Mother’s Day 2013 found us at the same hunting test again, in the same spot in Maryland or Delaware. Only this time, I had Kennedy with me. And that afternoon, Trip put a huge bouquet of flowers in the car window for me to find.

And when we were driving home, I asked if we could stop for lunch. In the same place. On mothers day. like mom

And I walked in with Kennedy and graciously accepted the “Happy Mother’s Day” greeting as we were ushered to our booth.

But this time I didn’t hide the tears. She let them flow. I let them flow down my face for all the babies that were not to be. I let them flow through all the months and years without babies.

And then I let them flow to me and Kennedy, coming together in gratitude and love for the baby I was meant to have. The baby who made the wait and the pain finally makes sense.

The baby, the child, who made me a mother.