Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.

ImageIt’s already started, Little One. Mothers Day is less than two weeks away, and the ads are everywhere. They are inescapable. They are every other commercial on TV, the radio, Internet ads- they slap my in the face everywhere I turn my head.

And every time I see them, it’s like a punch in the throat. I choke up, and unable to breathe all I feel is the sting of the pain.

I am a childless mother.

I’m a mother from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes. I can feel in my bones that I was born to nurture in a way only a mother does. I a mother without children, an odd paradox that gets abhorrently ignored in the greeting card aisle on Mothers Day. It hurts every year. Each May I think it will change, that either we will finally have children or that I will ignore my heart and soul and defiantly rise above the pain and ignore it. But I can’t, and it hurts me to my core.

I try to focus on the positive. This weekend was very positive, it was wonderful. Your Dad and I went camping like we do many weekends. We drove the hills and valleys of Pennsylvania farmlands Friday evening, the gorgeous sun setting over the hills in front of us. Holding hands the whole ride we talked about life, where we’ve been and the exciting places we’re going. It felt good to spend time with RB and my parents, to relax and reconvene with nature. Goodness I hope you find nature as amazing as I do. We spent most of the weekend driving around the campground on a golf cart, breathing in the fresh air and staring up in amazement at the large trees.

Saturday RB and I went to the pool and started talking with a fellow camper. Through our talk we told her we’re trying to adopt, and she revealed to us that her eight year old daughter is adopted. She was adopted from Guatemala, and she was the sweetest kid. When asked how she liked being adopted, her reply was, “I’m so glad God picked me and my Mommy and Daddy to be matched together as a family.”  Our hearts melted on the spot. You just never know who you’re going to meet, Lo, or what their story will be. People come from all different backgrounds and if you’re accepting and open and just listen for a minute, you’ll see the ultimate beauty in humanity.

On Saturday night my Mom and I went to play the campgrounds bingo. Let me tell you a little secret, Lo: I’ve never won a game of bingo in my life. Ever. And I’ve played – from elementary school classroom bingo to Catholic church basement bingo to campground bingo. Never a win, ever.

But Saturday night I had a thought. After playing seven rounds of bingo and coming no where near winning a single game I realized that maybe I have horrible luck for a reason. Maybe we’re all born with a certain amount of luck to be doled out throughout our life, and mine has been reserved for finding you. Each bingo game, raffle and lottery ticket lost is all because that luck is going into our Little One Luck account. If that’s the case, I’m totally fine with losing everything game in the world.

The next two weeks are going to be rough. Mothers day is still a hard one. But I have hope, Lo. I have hope in my heart that this will in fact be the last year I’ll be a childless mother.

But I need to be patient. I need to trust in hope and be like the nature I love so much: be patient like the trees above my head, but persistent like the grass beneath my feet.

I have hope that next year, I’ll finally be able to celebrate Mothers day with you – and that’s worth more than any bingo game or lottery ticket in the world.


Standing tall like the trees and grass,




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