Saturday, May 7, 2011

mother's day, without

I've been thinking about writing this post for a while now, not really sure where to begin.  My mother's day posts always seem to allude to the experiences of my past.  Up until now, though, they've been lacking an element of truth that has to be discussed.  That is worth talking about.  Important.

Mother's Day came and went as it always had every year up until the year 2000 for me.  A card, a sentimental gift.  First for my mother and grandmothers, then for my mother in law as well.  I'd had no occasion to experience the day as anything other than the child of another woman.

Then 2000 came along.  That terrible, horrible year that sometimes I wish I could wipe my memory clear of. 

In 2000, I was to be a mother.  And then I wasn't.

And Mother's Day went from just being a holiday I noticed on a calendar, sent a card and made a phone call to a day I dreaded for weeks before.  A day that I spent holed up in the corner.  I did what I was still obligated to for those who came before me.  I sent the cards, I bought the sentimental gifts, I made the phone calls.

And it, all of it, felt like I was being kicked in the gut.

That my insides were being ripped from me, that it was happening all over again. 

I went through the motions, did what I was supposed to.  And it hurt. 

That was the year I was supposed to be a mother.  Except I wouldn't be.  And I wasn't sure I would ever be. 

It wasn't a kind place to be.

The entirety of it, a reminder of what I didn't have.

Since then, I've received the cards and the handmade gifts.  The half-spilled cups of coffee and the plates of runny eggs.  And it has been wonderful.

Nothing can erase how it felt when I was without, though.

I don't know what the point is of writing this, really.  Perhaps it's to point out the fact that motherhood, as challenging and exhausting and demanding as it is, is a gift.  A blessing. 

One that not everyone gets.

On this weekend, take a moment to honor those who want and can't have.  Who would give anything for a 2am wake up call.  Who would welcome frazzled nerves and uncertainty with open arms.  Who long for walls covered with scribbles.  If only.

Motherhood is like so many other things in this life.  Sometimes it comes with careful planning, sometimes it comes unexpectedly, sometimes it refuses to come at all. 

It isn't fair.

This weekend is a constant reminder of that unfairness.

To all the mothers out there, whether they are mothers in this world or only the world they imagine, my love.

1 comment:

  1. Just scooching on back through your 'infertility' tag, and this is absolutely beautiful and right on the button. Thank you for writing it.


Some of My Most Popular Posts