Mother’s Day. Just those two words are enough to make me feel like I have been kicked in the gut. All the sappy commercials reminding me of all the special parent-child moments that I will never have. All the vomit-inducing over-the-top cards that are shoved in your face and made an obligation to send. All the strangers asking what my kids are doing for me on the day. It is all just too much.
It has been two years since my fifth miscarriage and one year since we made the decision to stop trying for a child. Some days I cope relatively well and some days I am still very much in survival mode. Mother’s Day is definitely a survival day. I hope some day to be be able to something meaningful on Mother’s Day to honor my motherhood, even just to be able to go to a restaurant on that day without crying would be a start. But I am not there yet and that’s okay.
So on Mother’s Day you will find me in my sweats, on the couch, pigging out on chocolate and watching Netflix so I can avoid seeing the stupid commercials. For this day, I will give myself permission to wallow in my grief, if I want. It is my day to take care of me with whatever helps to keep me going.
- The Ornament - December 7, 2021
- Hobbies That Turn On Us - December 17, 2019
- The Devil Doesn’t Need More Advocates - December 3, 2019