“Suffering is not my enemy.” This realization came to me in the middle of the night — a night that found me completely worn out, tortured by the accumulating nights of sleep deprivation that all new mothers experience. Sleep deprivation is brutal. The demands of caring for a newborn have brought me to the absolute limits of my strength and sanity on more than one occasion.
On one of these occasions, as I felt I was falling apart, the thought came: “Suffering is not my enemy, and I should not feel threatened by it. It is a companion on the journey, and the destination is worth it.” I thought about how Christ experienced suffering as he journeyed through death into the life of glory. Surely, he could help me follow this path and not lose heart.
I hate suffering. But I love the way I once heard St. Elizabeth of the Trinity described as dealing with suffering in her own life. “Thank you, Lord, I am not worthy,” she responded when she encountered suffering. I heard about her life years ago when I was sitting in the convent refectory as they read her biography in French. “Merci, Seigneur, je ne suis pas digne.” I wanted to have her attitude. I want her attitude now. Instead, I get angry with God.
The long wait
The past year has been a wild rollercoaster ride for me and my husband. In December of 2023, I resigned my part-time teaching job in anticipation of completing a home study for adoption. In February of 2024, we received our foster license with great anticipation. With joyful hope, we waited for a phone call, an email, any news of a little one who needed a home, thinking it could come any day, believing that it would happen quickly.
Slowly, reality hit: We were waiting, and we continued to wait. Maybe today? Maybe tomorrow? After a few months, we received an email about a woman who had given birth to a child who was in the ICU. She was thinking about adoption but was undecided. Did we want to be considered? Of course! Yes!
As the days continued, we realized that this child would not come home with us. We continued to wait and wait and wait. I watched my husband shed tears, physically crying out his heart’s longing to be a dad, an ability that he felt God had withheld from him. I wrestled with God in prayer about whether or not I was ready to become a mom and if that was why we had to wait.
I finally reached a breaking point and asked God, “Do you want us to become parents or not?” I didn’t need to know the timeline, I just needed to know if it was his will.
Clinging to hope
Living on one income made me keenly aware that we were not surviving without depleting our savings. Our choice for me to be home and wait felt confusing and meaningless. As we faced the possibility of not being placed with a baby, the discouragement crept in to the point of despair. In October, I finally reached a breaking point and asked God, “Do you want us to become parents or not?” I didn’t need to know the timeline, I just needed to know if it was his will and if I should continue to pray for the grace to adopt. Shortly thereafter, we received the email that caused me to weep. A woman was considering adoption and looking for a couple who could not have children of their own, did not have any children at home yet, and planned to have a parent at home full-time. Did we want to be considered? Yes! Of course!
We waited to see: Would we stand out among the other couples who were in the adoption program? Would anyone else match that criteria? Our excitement grew when we received a call: We were moving forward and met the criteria the mom was looking for. We thought we would meet her the following week … but that was not to be. We waited for news. Then the news came: The dad wanted to parent this child.
We waited, we prayed, we let the tears fall freely. Why, Lord? Why did they tell us about this situation and raise our hopes? I tried to stay hopeful and pray that maybe the father would change his mind, if it was God’s will. There was an important meeting in January, so I went to the Shrine of Our Lady of Champion and lit a candle. Then we got the phone call. Dad continued in his resolution to parent. There was nothing the mother could do.
As I drove home that weekend, I was angry with God. I didn’t understand why a situation that seemed so perfect was not working out. He must not want us to become parents.
That Monday, I got a phone call. The dad had changed his mind and was now moving toward an adoption plan. We were stunned, cautious, almost distrusting. The baby was going to be due in a matter of weeks.
Fast forward to today, and a six-week-old newborn has turned my life upside-down. His needs sometimes demand every ounce of strength and energy I have. Motherhood is a sacrifice of one’s life poured out at the service of another. And with the adoption journey, we have to navigate the pain and sorrow of this child’s birth family. We were told by our agency worker that adoption is born of grief. Everyone suffers in the process.
The example of our Sorrowful Mother has always shown me that suffering and motherhood go hand in hand.
Motherhood and the cross
The example of our Sorrowful Mother has always shown me that suffering and motherhood go hand in hand, but it was not until I welcomed a newborn into my heart and home that I experienced this truth in my own flesh. Motherhood and suffering are somehow related in God’s plan ever since the Fall, and I have found it fascinating that St. Paul wrote that a woman will be “saved through motherhood” (1 Timothy 2:15). I admit I’m still not sure what he meant.
The suffering of motherhood is not just about the labor pains — whether physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual. Nor is it so much about the anxiety and overwhelming demands of providing for a small, helpless human who needs you at all hours. The sufferings of motherhood are much deeper. They touch the mystery of God since he saved the world through the sacrifice of his Son, born of a woman, who stood with him at the cross, offering her motherhood.
Being entrusted with a soul, with the formation of a soul in love, is always a process that entails suffering. St. Paul wrote about his own journey of spiritual fatherhood in this maternal way: “My children, for whom I am again in labor until Christ be formed in you!” (Galatians 4:19). Jesus himself used the image of labor to describe the sorrow and suffering of his apostles before his passion: “When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived. … So you are also now in anguish…” (John 16:21-22).
Suffering is not my enemy. It is the price of my motherhood and part of my path to salvation.
Therefore, suffering is not my enemy. It is the price of my motherhood and part of my path to salvation. It is the price that Christ paid for me so that I could enter into the fruitfulness of his love. For this, I have to say: Thank you, Lord, I am not worthy.