The one day I every year I actually dread more than the anniversary of my own mother's death.
Mother's Day.
It'll be the first Mother's Day in YEARS where I've actually gone to Church. I've made commitments. I teach now. I'm determined to be there. But truthfully, I don't know how I'll react. I don't know if I'll be able to cope.
After eight years of marriage and no children, I've reached a stage of grief that lights the beginning of acceptance. Acceptance not because I want to accept the fact that I may never be able to get pregnant, but because I need acceptance in order to function. In order to not be angry and bitter. In order to be happy with all of the beauty that my life has now. I need to accept the fact that I may never get pregnant and have children of my own blood.
And I've been progressing toward that acceptance.
But Mother's Day is different. It's not your ordinary Sunday. And while I thought I could handle it, the simple singing voices of children in Church twisted my heart and it took every piece of my soul working overdrive in order to keep me from falling to pieces.
I often go walking in meadows of clover,But as the day grows closer, I wonder what will happen. Will I wake up and treat it like any other normal day? Will I be able to focus on celebrating the lives of my own mothers? Will I be able to handle listening to talks in Church about the blessing of motherhood? Will I be able to put my own feelings aside in order to teach the children in my class? Will I then go home and crumble?
And I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over;
Dear mother, all flowers remind me of you.
I have to keep it together.
Even though I know that no one would mind my tears, I don't want to be the sadness that pushes into a happy day for so many others.
So I try to be silent. I try to be still.
I try with all my might not to wonder what could have been.
4 comments:
Hi JIa, I don't struggle with the issue you struggle with: I've never wanted children, and my mom is still here, thank the Lord. But I do absolutely dread the day my mom leaves this earth, which I hope won't be for at least a few more years now.When I need to comfort some part of me I'm missing, I *do* that which I'm missing, if that makes sense. So, when I feel a little bit of mothering instinct, I mother the little people inside my "big" people. Or I mother myself in some special way my mom mothered me when I was little, even if it means rubbing Vicks on my chest and drinking hot chicken-noodle soup -- even if it's nearly summer and I don't have a cold. I also ask God to be what I'm missing: a lover, a father, etc. God will be your mom on Mother's Day if you let him. I don't know if it would make you feel better, but you could wear your mom's favorite color, or something else that will give you the sense of being enveloped be her and God, while you teach those little children? Nurture them as a your "mom" you would. They'll be all the more loved for it :-) (((Hugs to you, Jia)))
I struggled to get pregnant, and I was mortified by how over-the-top some people were at trying to make me feel included. I only skipped one Mothers Day at church (3 weeks after I was diagnosed with PCOS), but the others were hard.
Here's wishing you solace, peace and joy. Joy in the relationships you do have, and solace from the well-meaning busybodies. May they all leave you alone to deal with your emotions in whichever way is best for you and Matt.
It's good you have an understanding family. <3<3<3
Mother's Day is also difficult for me. The due date of one of our babies who was born into heaven because of miscarriage is actually today (13 years ago). After 3 miscarriages and too many years of infertility, even though we've been blessed with our miracle Damaris, I just cannot deal with Mother's Day. I won't be attending church on Sunday and thankfully my hubby and daughter understand. It's just too emotional for me. I'm fine most of the rest of the time, but Mother's Day is just too hard.
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