A Mother’s day letter to my beautiful friend, while you wait for your miracle baby…

Over the past few weeks, as the shops and my Facebook feed have been flooded with Mother’s day special offers and quotes, I have spent some time thinking about what the last few months have been like for me, I have thought about my own mother and the treasure she is for me, but most of all I have been thinking about you and the bittersweet day that this must be for you… I know that, if you had had your choice, your house would be filled with the chaos of a few children today, but instead, you have an empty lap, and I know that the weight of waiting for your miracle baby is one of the heaviest burdens you bear.
I know that you live in a world where there are mothers around every corner, in every shop, at every meeting, around every braai fire and table that surround you. You live in a world where many mothers think that motherhood is the reward of their hard-earned labour: labour by carrying a growing child in their belly, labour of bringing that child into the world through a birthing process (don’t get me started on all the opinions of what that should look like), of feeding little mouths, waking up for and carrying little bodies around the house. And the fact is, that the things many of us complain and sigh about, are the things you wish for at night when you are lying awake.
So today, I want to tell you that I believe mothering is something bigger than pregnancy, childbirth, and lactation. I believe that mothering is the process of nurturing life and growth. It is a willingness to set your own desires and comfort aside for the sake of carrying a dream. It is being willing to go through uncomfortable processes to see something birthed that is beautiful. It is nourishing and nurturing the members of your tribe, and creating a space for them to grow and feel at home. Mothering is sometimes setting aside your own joy for the sake of wading into someone else’s sadness and loving them through it. It is setting aside your sorrow and worries, and celebrating milestones and small achievements with great joy, no matter how insignificant they may seem to the outside world. It is sacrifice for the sake of love.
By this definition, even though you might not have any physical children yet, you are one of the best mothers I know.
I see the way you lift eyes away from your own heart and make space in it to love the children of your friends without jealousy. I see how you support mothers around you without judging them in the moments when they are simply too tired to be thankful for their babies, even though you might have every right to. I see how you celebrate your friends’ pregnancies and open up your home to families; all the while you are faithfully building a nest that will house your little ones one day, without shaking your fist at God about the fact that it has not happened for you yet, and I want to tell you that you are one of the strongest women I know.
I cannot presume to know your pain, but I do know the fruit of your loving heart because I learn from your example. I want you to know that I look at you with the greatest respect, and I believe that you are one of the most worthy women I know. Even though you have not carried a baby, you have been and are busy mothering a great many around you.
I salute you.