As Mother’s Day is fast approaching here in South Africa, my emotions start to stir as I reflect back to a time where I longed and waited to be a mother. Five years ago, I found myself walking through our local mall on Mother’s Day, one of the vendors placed a packaged Mother’s Day cookie in my hand, little did he know that this cookie felt like fire on my skin and ripped at the tear in my heart. I was not a mother, but I oh so badly wanted to be.

I looked for distractions, to fill the void. But every turn I took, my bareness was there following me like my shadow. Conversations with my friends turned to topics of birth plans, vaccines, discipline and nappy brands. I had nothing to contribute and even when among my closest friends, I felt like an outsider. My womb was empty, and so was my heart, and arms.

My phone seemed to flood with baby shower invites, gender reveal parties and people were falling pregnant just by looking at each other. And oh, those who complained about their unwanted pregnancies, how dare they!

There were babies, babies everywhere. I couldn’t even escape to a public bathroom without bumping into a pram along the way or seeing the sweet tiny baby clothes that hang in the windows tauntingly. I felt numb inside. When would it be my Mother’s Day?

The doctors had no real answer for us, everything on their side checked out fine. This was the worst part, having no answers, having absolutely no indication of whether my future would include children, or not. So, what was I supposed to do with life in the meantime? I felt isolated as friends continued to organise playdates and plan parties. They sympathized with me, which was kind of them, but I didn’t want their pity, they would never understand, never.

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Before I fell to the bottom of the pit I was floating in, I decided I had to take a situation that I had no control over, and change it, so that the reigns were indeed in my hands. Having control made the situation more stressful, but so much better. My husband and I decided to adopt, and adopt we did. I absolutely love how I became a mother, it was everything I had dreamed of, and more. I understand why my womb wasn’t working, it’s because my child was growing and born in my heart.

My message is to women around the world who are still waiting for their Mother’s Day. I know you. I know how your heart tightens every time you see a woman breastfeeding her child, I know how you cry at night as you picture yourself as the perfect mother, I know how you bravely attend those baby showers, while your heart sits in your throat as you smile and wave. You are not alone.

Your Mother’s Day will come. I am not simply consoling you by saying that one day you will realise why you were meant to wait, why you had to fight your way into motherhood. One day you will understand the journey, it will finally all make sense as you look into the eyes of your child.

I still feel the pain of being childless, I never want to lose that feeling, the pain is a reminder of how I journeyed to my son, the pain is a reminder that many of my fellow women are suffering in silence too, and I so badly want them to know that I get you!