Sunday will by the first Mother’s Day that I celebrate not just as a daughter, granddaughter and daughter-in-law, but as a mom. I guess I hadn’t thought a whole lot about this, but other people kept mentioning it to me – “HEY! Happy MOTHER’s Day, MOMMY!!!” (wink, wink) Interpretation: “Hey, you finally have a kid! Thank goodness, I was starting to wonder if you were EVER going to have one.” Yeah, you and me both.
Mother’s Days from 2001-2006 became progressively more difficult to endure. The imagery, the cards, the commercials for a month before the big day, the church services where mothers were “allowed” to wear a flower and/or stand to be recognized…I just wanted the entire weekend to be over quickly.
For the first time in six years, I will not prefer to spend the day in bed. I will not avoid restaurants or parks or going anywhere else mothers and their children will be. A beautiful spring day will not be wasted indoors this year.
I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic. I was never one of those women who said, “My whole life, all I ever wanted to be was a mother.” It was one of the roles I planned to have, one of the ways I wanted to invest my time and talents and love, but certainly not the only way. So why did Mother’s Day became so painful? Basically, the day became one giant, Hallmark-approved slap in the face of what I was not, of what I didn’t have, what I wanted so much.
My heart breaks for women who are still waiting and hoping (or feeling hopeless) that they’ll get a chance to be someone’s mom one day. Strange as it might sound, I feel a little guilty that I’m not one of them anymore.
For moms like me, for whom motherhood came with a price – time, tears, dozens of doctor’s appointments, blood draws, daily injections, thousands of dollars, more time, crushed self-esteem, bruised body, broken soul, paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, fingerprints, annoyingly inept social workers, more tears, and gallons of Häagen-Dazs – this Mother’s Day will be a day to celebrate. In a way that a woman for whom motherhood came easily can never understand.
This might all sound completely ridiculous to you. If you haven’t experienced it firsthand, there’s really nothing I can write to help you understand it fully. But if you know a woman who is struggling with infertility, or awaiting an adoption, please be extra kind to her this weekend. RESOLVE is a wonderful organization that helped me a great deal – check out and pass along this article to someone you know who might find this holiday difficult to endure.
Mother’s Days from 2001-2006 became progressively more difficult to endure. The imagery, the cards, the commercials for a month before the big day, the church services where mothers were “allowed” to wear a flower and/or stand to be recognized…I just wanted the entire weekend to be over quickly.
For the first time in six years, I will not prefer to spend the day in bed. I will not avoid restaurants or parks or going anywhere else mothers and their children will be. A beautiful spring day will not be wasted indoors this year.
I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic. I was never one of those women who said, “My whole life, all I ever wanted to be was a mother.” It was one of the roles I planned to have, one of the ways I wanted to invest my time and talents and love, but certainly not the only way. So why did Mother’s Day became so painful? Basically, the day became one giant, Hallmark-approved slap in the face of what I was not, of what I didn’t have, what I wanted so much.
My heart breaks for women who are still waiting and hoping (or feeling hopeless) that they’ll get a chance to be someone’s mom one day. Strange as it might sound, I feel a little guilty that I’m not one of them anymore.
For moms like me, for whom motherhood came with a price – time, tears, dozens of doctor’s appointments, blood draws, daily injections, thousands of dollars, more time, crushed self-esteem, bruised body, broken soul, paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, fingerprints, annoyingly inept social workers, more tears, and gallons of Häagen-Dazs – this Mother’s Day will be a day to celebrate. In a way that a woman for whom motherhood came easily can never understand.
This might all sound completely ridiculous to you. If you haven’t experienced it firsthand, there’s really nothing I can write to help you understand it fully. But if you know a woman who is struggling with infertility, or awaiting an adoption, please be extra kind to her this weekend. RESOLVE is a wonderful organization that helped me a great deal – check out and pass along this article to someone you know who might find this holiday difficult to endure.
1 comment:
You say "Haagen-Dazs" like it's a bad thing?
Mind you - I'm still stuck on the 'church service' comment.
But congratulations, you deserve it. I can't wait to meet her.
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