I’m writing this post for Mother’s Day 2018 the evening of Mother’s Day 2017, a full year ahead of time, because each year during my 7 years of infertility, Mother’s Day rolls around and I don’t know how to handle it. My husband knows it’s a tough day for me to be at church, surrounded by pregnant bellies and growing families, and not knowing how I’ll cope if the church will do something specifically for moms.

For the first few years of our infertility journey, I attended church as usual. Not only did I do that, but I was a coordinator for the baby dedications held on that day: I welcomed families to their special brunch, helped them find seats in the order that they would line up, and ushered ten or so families up onto the stage where their babies would be prayed for and dedicated to God. Somehow, back then, newly married and in a large church, I was generally okay. Maybe it helped that I had something to do, a way to focus on Mother’s Day.

Then we settled into our new home near Washington, D.C. and we plugged into a smaller church – one filled with young families. Each Mother’s Day came, and Mike and I were older, married longer, and still unable to have children.

Mother’s Day became more and more difficult. I never knew how our church might focus on motherhood or honor moms on those Sunday mornings. Each year, I’ve wrestled with my decisions of how to handle Mother’s Day. I want to worship God, I want to fellowship with others, and honestly, I don’t want to skip church.

But sometimes it’s okay to stay home. It’s once a year for me, although I’m close to skipping Father’s Day as well. I rarely miss church for any other reason, but on Mother’s Day, my husband and I stay home together, spend the day together, usually going for a run or walk. On that day I worship God through song while playing my guitar.

Mother’s Day is a day on which I grieve because of the many attempts to grow our family haven’t brought us children. I’m sad because I’m not a mom yet. I know that God (and loved ones) have not forgotten me. I do my best to rejoice with those who rejoice, but on Mother’s Day, I need to grieve. I don’t want to stand in the way of the happy families who can spend the day feeling thankful for their mamas.

So for many years in a row, I’ve chosen to stay home, to rest, to get outside and enjoy nature, to sing to my Father God who loves me. For all couples facing infertility or other grief on Mother’s Day or special holidays, give yourself space to grieve and grace to do things differently. May our hearts be covered with the peace of God.

Let the mamas celebrate, but on this day it’s okay for us to stay home and quietly grieve.