Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, May 9, 1993 TAG: 9305070385
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CODY LOWE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
I have to admit that until about a year ago, it never occurred to me that Mother's Day could be other than a cheery, sorta schmaltzy holiday.
Mom gets a card and some flowers, maybe gets taken out to dinner, at least gets a phone call - if her children can get through the "all circuits are busy at this time" backlog.
But I have been reminded in recent years that Mother's Day isn't a delight for everyone.
For the woman who has been unable to bear children though she desperately wants them, the holiday may be a bitter reminder of an unfillable emptiness.
For a man whose mother abandoned him as a child, the day may be actively ignored to avoid re-inflicting the pain of that rejection.
Children whose mothers abuse them every day might rather punish than reward those who bore them.
So, now, when Mother's Day rolls around, I try to remember - for a few minutes, anyway - those for whom the day is not a celebration.
There is a sweet couple - lifelong friends my own age who still live in my hometown in North Carolina.
From the day they married, people had talked about what good parents they would be. Wonderful people. Solid values. Great sense of humor. So good with children.
For the first few years, nobody thought much about their not having any kids. It was early. They were young. There was plenty of time.
A little later, the couple would even joke about it. We laughed with them when they said they had been trying as hard as they could.
But secretly, they began to worry that something was wrong.
They started what became a long, weary road through an obstacle course of medical and psychological routines.
Maybe you're trying too hard? Your timing is bad? Not enough sperm? Endometriosis?
There were fertility tests, fertility drugs, frustration after frustration.
Then, finally - miraculously, some said - more than a decade after their marriage, a conception.
It was almost too good to be true, but they told those of us who love them the good news.
In a matter of weeks, however, the bad news followed. A spontaneous abortion, miscarriage. Usually nature's way of saying something was seriously wrong with the developing child.
Their friends continued to hope and pray for them, but it became more and more clear that birthing was an experience they were not going to have.
Two decades after their marriage, they began to think of adoption.
Though they had wanted an infant or toddler, they knew that would mean even more waiting, and they came to realize that they had a gift they could give to an older child.
A few months ago, they welcomed into their home a 6-year-old boy.
Even in so short a life, he already bore some invisible scars. But he has a home now with two new, loving parents who will do their best to help him forget that trauma.
It won't be - hasn't been - easy. His new parents took him in knowing that, but dedicated to the mission - just as they would had they brought a newborn home from the hospital.
So, today, my friend celebrates her first Mother's Day as a mother.
I'll raise a toast to her, at the same time I honor my own mother and my grandmothers and my children's mother.
And I will remember the biblical story of Sarah.
Sarah was an old woman - about 100, the Bible says - who had never been able to have children. One day, she overheard angels tell her husband, Abraham, she would have a son.
Her response was a laugh - a scornful, disbelieving laugh. "Shall I indeed bear a child now that I am old?"
Yet she did bear a son and mothered a nation.
And she reminds us still that parenthood can come in unexpected ways at unbelievable times with unimaginable results.
Lowe Cody Lowe reports on issues of religion and ethics for this newspaper.
by CNB