This Mother’s day was bitter. Not only do I not have a
mother to share the day with but no one accredited the fact that, by this time,
I should have been a mother. I don’t blame them. It could be a scary thing, not knowing how I
would respond, but so many people are quick to tell me to relax, adopt, and how
acupuncture changed one of their friends cousins sister-in-law’s fertility. So,
then why be timid now? A simple, “I’m thinking of you today,” that’s all,
nothing more. I can’t promise that I will not cry because I tear up just
thinking of these words.
I thought that I would be okay to work. I work mostly every
Mother’s day. That is what you do when you don’t have children or a close
relationship with your own mother. But
this Mother’s day I felt resentful, hurt, ignored, and abandoned. Not by my
husband or cats who got me an obligatory Mother’s day card and woke my husband
and me up by snuggling just like how I used to wake up my parents and
grandparents, another reminder that we do not have a baby there like we should
have.
Miscarriages are not to be ignored. The people who have
shared our journey; who we shared our secret with before we miscarried could at
lease acknowledge that we lost a part of our family. I guess hallmark doesn’t
make a card for that?
I am posting after Mother’s day because, in truth, many
people did think about me but were too shy to say it on Mother’s day and I
needed time to digest my feelings. I received 5 messages early on the Monday
after. Each message brought me to tears. There are two links below that were
shared with me by two people who had the courage to face my tears. Tears that I
have probably held back, telling myself that it was God’s will and that it was
his way of saying that this will happen on his time. I believe it was his will, and I also believe
that I still may never have children if that is also his will. But this
Mother’s day I needed to feel these tears fogging up my glasses, to mourn what
I suppressed, that I too, am now a mother. I had a heart beat in my womb and it
died there, because of this single heartbeat, this Mother’s day does matter.
© All original content copyright Nancy De Lazzaro
Brannum, 2013-2014
