It's the time of year when we celebrate mothers of all kinds. It's a day I now cherish. However, there was a brief time when I didn't want to acknowledge it and and even longer time when I didn't understand it to know to appreciate it.
A few years and tears ago, Mother's Day was a day I wanted to skip over due to my own hurts and disappointments. I had spent many years prior to this dealing with the issue of Crohn's Disease and all that brought with it. Then, I dealt with the removal of my large intestine and having a permanent need for an ileostomy bag. But with that, it seemed I had my life back. Then, later on down the road, my husband and I would have to deal with infertility issues. It's one of those times when I couldn't understand why God would allow me to go through something else so hard to deal with.
We had to go through many tests in order to understand what the issues were and how to best treat them and get the right plan of action in order to give us the best chance at conception. With our first round of treatment, our hopes were very high. And then, when we realized that it didn't work, those hopes came crashing down on top of us. It left a gaping hole in my heart which seemed to overtake my whole body eventually. There were people around us who were announcing that they were expecting. Your mind says you owe it to them to be happy for them. Your issues aren't their fault. And if they could have helped you achieve your dreams beyond the many prayers that were said on your behalf, they would have in a heartbeat. But when you're hurting as much as I was, being thrilled for those who are getting what you had taken away from you is difficult. Very, very difficult.
Once we went through the second round of treatments, and I found out I was expecting, those wounds I had healed quickly. Although there is still a scar, a reminder that things aren't as simple for some as they are for others. It gives me the ability to be more empathetic as I would have had no way of understanding these feelings otherwise. I am blessed to be driven to insanity one minute with my son's whining and toddler tantrums. And I'm amazed when he sings his ABC's and recognizes letters and numbers that are written down before him. My heart melts when he wants to give me "loves", when he lays his head on my shoulder, and when he points to me and says, "That's Mama". I feel like a failure if he falls and gets hurt when I'm right there in arm's reach. But victory is close behind when he will clasp his hands together at the kitchen table to say grace before a meal.
Being a mom now myself, I recognize more of what I never could see growing up. I've heard stay-at-home moms call themselves Domestic Engineers. That is a fantastic title. They clean their home just so it can get dirty again in five minutes, prepare meals (sometimes for everyone in the house but themselves), change countless numbers of diapers, try to keep on top of the never-ending pile of laundry, keep siblings from hurting themselves and each other, taxi these same children to whatever event(s) they may be involved in (and to doctor's appointments), pay bills, run errands, make sure there's food in the house to be able to cook...I'm sure the list could go on. I'm not a stay-at-home mom, but I have found that the times when my son is with me all day can be more tiring than if I had went to work.
And then I think about when I was so sick with Crohn's. There were times I was in the hospital for days at a time. My mom was there with me. She has her own service-based business, and if she doesn't work, she doesn't get paid. And while she was staying with me in the hospital, this was the case. My parents would never complain if there was financial stress through all of this (and I'd imagine there was some of that). There was a sacrifice there. The one that says "I will move Heaven and Earth to make sure the one I love is cared for". And it's not just the income that was sacrificed. She gave up time with my brother and sister and father to be with me in a cold hospital, sleeping on whatever contraption they had, and I'm sure being woke up as much as I was through all of the poking and prodding they do throughout the whole day and night.
Mother's Day shouldn't be the only day to recognize the love, service and sacrifice and mom gives to her family. This should be something to thank God for daily. To my mom, to all the moms out there, to those who have stepped up to the plate of motherhood when maybe you didn't have to, we thank you and hope you know how much you are loved and appreciated not only today, but everyday.
Prior to this day, I had spent much time in pain except for the times I was taking prednisone. And then I would feel crazy in the head, but I was pain free. I'd imagine maybe it is what the Hulk feels like. I would feel seemingly fine one minute, but then ready to go into a rage with the flip of a switch. (I don't think I ever turned green though.) 
When the day came that the doctor said surgery to remove my colon might need to be considered because we had tried all the medicinal options, it was a sort of defeat to the war I had been a part of. All the battles I had tried to fight for some time had all ended in a loss. It was the thought of, "How can I go through so much for so long and still come out on the losing side?"
