She stood before a rack of Mother’s Day cards for a long time without moving. Row upon row of Mother’s Day wishes with little pastel envelopes stared back at her. “Neener neener neener” they almost seemed to call. She took a sharp breath and reached for one – pink with a rose border – and opened it. She skimmed its verse and replaced it. Her fingers skimmed the row and choose another – red with M-O-M spelled out in ornate gold script. This one, apparently more suitable, would be her choice as she reached to grab the plain white envelope that accompanied it. When she did, her hand paused over the “Mother to Be” cards. It was only for a moment, but enough to show those nosey enough to be watching, that she was not, in fact, a mother at the moment, but she wanted to be. She took the envelope and quickly wiped a tear as she walked to the cash.
It strikes me that there is a huge segment of the population who is hurting today. Those who desperately long to be mothers, but for whatever reason are not. They don’t make a Hallmark for that. One that says, “This sucks… I wish like heck your dream would come true for you because you’d be a really fabulous Mom.” They need a card like that.
To L and G and D, and anyone who has paused for a painful moment over the Mom to Be cards, I thought of you all day.