Last year, on my first Mother's Day, I expected for it to be a joyful day. A day that would be filled with happiness instead of pain, since I now had living children, right? Instead, last year on Mother's Day I spent most of day either upset or indifferent. I chalked it up to being elbow deep in NICU worries, and apprehension about the future. I expected this year to be different.
Yesterday, on my first Mother's Day home actually caring for my children, I again spent most the day upset or indifferent.
Lack of sleep? nope.
Fussy children? nope.
Angry with my own mom? nope.
The truth is that Mother's Day is still painful for me. Even though my own infertility is "resolved," I didn't instantly forget the pain that was usually associated with the second Sunday in May. I was mourning for friends of mine who are still childless. I was mourning for C. I was hurting for those of you that are still hurting.
I hate this disease. I hate the infertility takes something that is so incredibly attainable for many and makes it completely unattainable. I hate the stress, the heartache, the loss, and the grief that comes with infertility.
Mother's Day shouldn't just celebrate the woman who through adoption, surrogacy or birth have children. It should celebrate those who give of themselves to others. Who are mothers to their students, their nieces or nephews, their spouses, their parents, their clients or their unborn children. We should celebrate all giving and loving women, whether they have someone that calls them mom or not.
Next year I plan on celebrating all of the great women in my life. My mom, my grandma, my friends who are moms, my friends who mothered me out of a brown bottle flu, our babysitter, the women who are "aunts" to my children, and the women who are still waiting for their children. We all deserved to be celebrated.
