May is mothers’month, a time to celebrate that singular creature so pivotal in every life. Even at 67, Mom’s love is one of my cherished memories. But today, I pay my respects to a mother’s love in a different way.
A young relative of mine knew, midway through her first pregnancy, that her baby had just half a heart. With optimism sustained on a mother’s love, she believed all might be well, if only … if only.
“If only” is the stuff of fairy tales, but a mother’s heart wants what the heart wants and cannot be easily deterred.
Hope is pinned on medical intervention, but not everything that is broken can be fixed. When cardiologists say only a 10 percent chance exists, they truly mean it.
Does a mother’s heart hear those terrible odds? Not likely. Try. Try everything. Everything failed, and a baby with virtually no chance of survival went to his Creator.
Still I stand in awe of his mother. When everyone else saw the reality - heard the reality - she believed, and her love never faltered. Her mother’s heart and love never tanked on her little one. Reality was never part of this equation. Only love.
