A Mother's Love

My heart is so heavy, I don't know how I will ever rest again. How can I sleep when all my hopes, my expectations for my family's future have been dashed to the ground? We'll be laughing-stocks; no one will respect any of us again. And why? Oh, God, how can I bear this? The sweet taste of honey in my mouth is replaced by bitter gall. The pain of childbirth is nothing compared to this. No more joy, the future holds nothing but heartbreak for me. 

Childbirth. Ah, that pain was tempered by anticipation of joy. Besides, there would be an end to it. Not like this pain, which will pursue me until death and beyond. No ointment, no opium can still it.Such hope, such celebration, to finally give birth to my darling girl. Such companionship we would share as she grew. I would teach her all those things a Godly woman must know, all the skills she would need to run her own household someday. I would receive honor through all her successes, all the wisdom and good works she would accomplish throughout her life which loomed brightly ahead.

God! How dare you repay my reverence with such betrayal? The wicked should be punished, yes, but your faithful servant should be esteemed by those around her, should receive the reward she is due. Why did you not send a lightning bolt through my heart and finish my suffering? Do you really expect me to carry my head high as I travel through the community, to continue to be an example of purity and loyalty to the other women in church? Who would listen to anything I say now? Why would they believe I know anything worth their attention? They turn their eyes away from me now as I pass them in the street, they avoid speaking comforting words to me. 

All the hours I spent on my knees in prayer, all the hours in community service in your name, wasted! I could have taken my ease at home rather than working until my back cried out, my legs turned to jelly, with a sweet smile still on my lips, gladly helping others in times of trouble, dispensing encouraging words to the heartbroken. Where is my comfort, my help, my encouragement?  Look to the Lord", I'd say. "We may not see until eternity why these things happen, but we must trust that He knows best." Trust! Such piety. My own words reproach me, lie in my belly like a cold fire. Perhaps faith is only there when you give it away; maybe it's not something you can keep and count on. All is lost.

Even my own husband is silent. There's no comfort there. He tries to go on as though the world had not ended, but when our eyes meet, I'm scalded by the reproach I see. I have failed as a mother, as a woman. It's difficult for him too; I know that full well. But these things are a mother's responsibility, guilt adds to my burden. Besides, men don't feel things as deeply as women do, despite their protests to the contrary. If they did, they couldn't go about their business as usual, they would collapse at home behind closed doors. Like me.

She was a happy, loving child, well-behaved and obedient. She would follow her older cousin around constantly; they played at being grown up with dolls for children as they practiced the skills they didn't realize they were learning -- they thought it was only fun. Then her cousin began to grow up, sooner than my darling child, and began to spend her time with a young man destined to lead a worship group in a little town some distance away.

When they married, I was concerned at the loneliness I saw on my child's disconsolate face. But her sunny disposition soon reappeared through the clouds of grief caused by loss of her playmate and she began going out to play again, alone. When she came in after hours of play, she would run to me and tiptoeing, would embrace me, hugging and kissing a greeting. Before much longer, she was as tall as I; her kisses fell on my brow instead of my chin. Her countenance grew in beauty; in her presence I felt a peaceful happiness, a satisfaction that she was growing up and would in such a short time, become a charming young woman. My heart would give a little lurch as I realized she would not forever reside within arm's reach but would some day soon look forward to a home of her own, a husband and children to care for  --like her dear cousin, who finally had a child coming, after long years of waiting.

I would rather my own child had died in my womb and I would have gladly missed those joyful years of proudly watching her grow up, rather than live to see her hopes dashed to the ground, our hearts broken, along with any future happiness she may have hoped for.   

All the sacrifices we made, all our love, our efforts to raise her -- as was our responsibility, understand. This was our duty under God's law, not a gift to her, not something she was required to repay (except the honor any child owed to her parents under God's same law). We were repaid, but not with honor or respect. In return, we received grief, regret, shame and she could not even explain to us how or why we were so betrayed. She said she was bound to secrecy (as though any promise to another could take precedence over her loyalty toward her parents). She said we would understand in time. But when?

We had no choice but to agree to her hasty marriage to this man -- this man, years older than she, who should have known better, who should have realized she was too young to understand the repercussions of such behavior. Oh, we did everything right, the wedding party included all the best people, all the refreshments; the decorations were as fine as money could buy. The guests came, ate and drank, tittered or giggled behind their hands when they thought we couldn't see or hear, watched my beloved daughter and her new husband and nudged one another, whispering. They made sure we knew they weren't taken in by our masquerade of apparent celebration of the nuptials. They slyly slipped in snide questions with their congratulations, such as why had we not waited until she was older; surely if it were true love, he would have waited for her. Our heads held high, we ignored the stabbing pain of their jibes and looked at the innocent (what irony) gaze of our daughter into the uneasy eyes of her bridegroom. He knew, if she did not, what their lives would be like.

I was relieved when a short time later he came to us, saying he must make a long business trip and his wife would travel with him. It might be, I thought, that he was looking for employment possibilities there and they could start over where no one would know of their unsavory beginning. To be fair, he had been a loving husband and treated her very tenderly; he provided for her every need and reassured her, bringing a smile back to her face, whenever she became fearful or felt poorly because of the pregnancy. She was so young!

She bravely waved and smiled her farewells as she rode away. Who knew when we'd see her again, if ever? So many things could happen with a first baby, such a young mother, and so far away from any women in her family who could see her through this time and help her after the birth. It wasn't wise to travel so late in her term; I was uneasy though I knew it was best if the baby were born far away from the gossips and tattle-tales of our small town. Oh God, help her. Help my child through this difficult time. Keep her safe, hold her future ---  

Yes, in spite of my grief, my anger, I can't withhold my prayers. God is. He won't disappear just because I keep silent and ignore him. In the scriptures it tells how King David cried out angrily over his hardships, his troubles, yet it says God called him a "man after his own heart". I never understood that, but I guess God doesn't hold grudges when we blame him for our pain. 

Light from my window. Have I truly lain here awake all night? My ears! What is that humming sound; it grows louder. And the light! Surely the sun never shone like this before. Surely it will explode and the world with it; that will end my sorrow.

Her face, my darling daughter's face in the midst of that unearthly glow. The baby! She's holding her child and I see her tender gaze as she nuzzles that downy little head. Oh, I remember that first sight of my own dear child. And behind her, other faces like none ever seen, radiant and joyful and singing, they're singing of great joy, peace come into this world with that child. Whispers of sorrows ahead but promises that she won't have to go through them alone, that God is with them, this family, this daughter who once belonged to me.

I'm on my knees, Lord, hands reaching toward the warmth of this brilliance filling my room. I will weep no more. Hail Mary, full of grace. Blessed art thou among women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.