Where to begin… First, let it be said that Mother’s Day is a beautiful day to honor the strong women who have brought all of us on this earth into existence. Without our mothers, we wouldn’t exist. We take time on that day to acknowledge and thank them for all they have done, and continue to do for us, and they certainly deserve it. That being said, Mother’s Day is so very hard for so many women for so many different reasons. The one reason that strikes closest to my own heart, is that of infertility.
Infertility can make a lot of situations incredibly painful, and Mother’s Day is certainly no exception. I thought that finally having fallen pregnant, the day would instantly be converted to one of pure happiness and joy. I was wrong. Unfortunately my last 5 mother’s days were spent yearning for what others had and were celebrating, and that shifted my perspective. Although this year I was pregnant and so beyond joyful and grateful for where I’d gotten to, I was also still deeply saddened by the pain of my past and that of my infertility sisters. I empathized with the mothers who had just had miscarriages, or the mothers who recently (or long ago) lost their child. I also felt anxiety for my own child I am carrying. What if something happens and this is all taken from me? It’s a horribly negative way to look at things, but sometimes after all you’ve been through, it can be hard to have faith, especially in your weakest moments.
I went through the day wanting to be in the mood to celebrate only to feel disconnected from the joy I was supposed to be feeling. We started with a nice brunch out, figuring maybe I just needed a little energy boost, but that experience only broke me further. We had a terrible server and experience that literally left me in tears. We can blame the pregnancy hormones for that I suppose. Once again I found myself just wanting to get through the day. So we went to Ikea… not exactly the vision I had for my first Mother’s Day, but it was what I wanted so as to not be focused on what was going on around me, or what we perhaps should be doing to celebrate. Eric wanted this day to be special for me, but he too felt the pangs of memories drummed up, and empathized with how I needed to cope.
I hope that Mother’s Day next year will be one that I can properly celebrate, but I wonder if part of my heart will always sit with those in pain on this day. I knew it too well, and lived it too long to forget. Although part of me wishes I could, and wants to enjoy the purity of the day that so many others blissfully can, unaware of the struggles of others… I’m just not sure that it will ever feel right celebrating without also honoring those in the wait or mourning.
Infertility opens your eyes up, and certainly taught me a lot about compassion. I don’t judge those who can enjoy this day blissfully unaware, I envy it to a degree. But I also wouldn’t trade in my perspective as I’ve learned so much about myself and what is most important to me in this life, and that certainly isn’t celebrating a hallmark holiday.