Last summer I was sitting in a doctor’s office in Florida while on vacation. Titus had been really sick. In one of the magazines was an article highlighting several exempts from a book my Laura Bush. She wrote about struggles with infertility. I’d like to quote the exerpt:

George and I had hoped that I would be pregnant by the end of his congressional run. Then we hoped it would be by the time his father announced his presidential run, then by the presidential primaries, the convention, the general election. But each milestone came and went. The calendar advanced, and there was no baby. The English language lacks the words “to mourn an absence.” For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful, some not. Still, we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I am sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture the particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent, ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

Some of you know this feeling. Many do not. Often times it is at mothers day where moms or mom’s who never were feel pain and loss for the absence in their lives. Because it is an absence, we rarely recognize it. We rarely help families mourn, yet it is a tremendous felt need.

Mark my words. If you’re looking for a way to honor mothers, forget flowers and handmade cards. Find a way to show moms who never were or mom who have gone through this great loss that you know about their loss and that you care… you truly do. An investment in this will go a very long way in healing old and secret wounds.

Last year my wife held such an event to honor these women. Here are the posts:

Born Into Heaven