For Whom

When I'm out and about with my three little ones who range in age from eight months to four-years-old, the most frequent comment I get from strangers is "you've got your hands full."  At the age of 35, I was at a very low point because my arms were empty despite the years and thousands of dollars we had spent trying to conceive and trying to adopt both within the United States and Ukraine. Now at the age of 41, my arms are full and my heart is overflowing with love and gratitude for these three long awaited blessings from the Lord. In 2005 when I was grieving the loss of an ectopic pregnancy, my sister wrote this poem for me. I share it today in case it might encourage another woman dealing with infertility, a painful struggle that is intensified around Mother's Day each year.

“For Whom” by Wendy Benner

For whom do these arms of mine ache?
For whom does this heart of mine long?
As yet unnamed, as yet unborn, you are the child to whom I cling—
The child of my hopes,
The child of my dreams.

Though there be no offspring in my womb,
Yet I carry you,
I carry you with me wherever I go.

Though there be no baby sleeping under my roof,
Yet I cradle you;
I can almost feel your tender cheek resting sweetly on my shoulder.

Where are you, Child?
I have been waiting for so long.
All of my tears have not brought you here.
All of my treatments have not brought you.
All of my trying,
All of my praying,
All of my planning and striving and enduring,
None of these have led me to you,
The child of my hopes,
The child of my dreams.

You are the one who will fill these arms of mine with warmth,
These eyes of mine with wonder,
This heart of mine with joy when I hear you utter at last
That one simple word,
“Mommy.”

Am I selfish?  I only want to give of myself, showering love on you.
Am I impatient?  My only desire is to spend these hours, these days of mine, spend them all on nurturing you.
Am I discontent?  I only know that these desires to mother you, these yearnings to nurture and care for you, these longings come from Above.

And so I turn my eyes once more
To the Giver of Life,
The Giver of dreams,
The Giver of all good gifts,
Asking, pleading once more
That in His grace,
He will soon be
The giver of the child of my hopes and dreams—
The giver of you.