Not all Mother’s Days are this bad. I lost my baby 8 years ago. It’s kind of amazing to think what my life might be like raising an 8-year-old. How very different.
Typically, I focus on the other mothers. My mom, certainly. And other people who have been as mothers in my life: Pat, Mom Duffy, Mom Riccardo, and others. I pray for them. Sometimes, I get them presents. This year, I got chocolate-covered strawberries for my mom (instead of picking out the most bizarre flower that I can find, per usual). And for Mom Riccardo, I picked up a small vase of flowers at a new florist. This place was so new, they didn’t even have a proper display in their showroom. It looked like a tiny workroom instead, except with a dinette set and a fat cat sitting in a chair. LOL! π
I pray for my friends who have children and hope they have a great day. I look at all of the posts on Facebook. The presents and the flowers and all of the cute things that mothers and kids do together to celebrate each other. It’s lovely and joyful.
I pray for my baby.
Usually at Mass, they have all the women stand up and give us all a blessing. This Sunday, however, Fr. Moses had the Mass. He had the mothers stand.
I did not stand. I didn’t think this included me. My child is dead.
He said a few words, then Deacon Ron interjected that godmothers and “all women” should stand. Perhaps they had intended to be inclusive from the beginning, but after all the “real” mothers were already standing, there’s something prohibitive about standing now. Like, if I stand now I am a fraud, and announcing this fact publicly before the whole church.
All of it hit me like a knife to the heart. I had wanted that baby more than anything. We had tried for so long. And here I am now — years later — with no baby and no husband. My mom made a comment recently that she and my dad had guessed that they’d probably not be getting any grandchildren, as my brother is also unmarried. I can’t do anything about that. I would love to give them grandchildren, to marry and have a family. But it doesn’t look like that is what God has planned for me. Not knowing God’s plan, I *felt* like a failure at life.
That’s how I ended up crying in church.
I took this picture in the car on my way home. For some reason, I wanted to document my pain. It happens, all too frequently, but no one seems to talk about it. Even the labeling can be harsh. If you miscarry early enough in pregnancy, it’s called a miscarriage. If you miscarry late, like I did, you get the diagnosis ABORTION, COMPLETE stamped all over your medical record. Even better, is when your doctor tells you that early miscarriages are usually due to some defect in the baby; whereas ones like yours are more likely to be a problem with the mother.
Thanks for that.
I thought the empty car seat in the photo was an extra dash of dramatic irony. I didn’t plan it that way; it was just the angle of the camera. I have it in there because I’m anticipating the birth of my (future) godchild. It happens to be pink, although we don’t know (and Dad doesn’t want to) the sex of the baby.
It rained ICE after Mass, which matched my mood pretty well. I cried all through my trip to the grocery store, where I bought “comfort food,” recalling the priest from confession who had told me that God can be found in ice cream. He wouldn’t lie, would he? So, I made sure that God would be in my house. π I assume that He also comes in the form of chips and cookies, too.
Don’t fear for my nutritional health. It will take me WEEKS to eat this and I’ll pawn it off on others, too. Some of it is even healthy. π
UNRELATED to the junk food, I didn’t feel well for much of the day. Super-nauseated. Which is usually either because of my myopathy, or a low blood sugar. I hadn’t felt like eating much after Mass, but I had something small (and not junk). So, I don’t really know why I felt bad, just that I did.
I blame it on the greasy burger from yesterday. π But that’s another story.
I went over my parents’ house for dinner. [Burgers. Haha! But these weren’t greasy and the green beans were DELICIOUS!] We had an enjoyable dinner and watched a couple programs about beach vacations, which helped, because it was FREEZING outside! π¦
Today is a new day, and I’m not sad in the same way. Not every day is sad. Not every Mother’s Day is sad. But it’s okay if you are, so long as you don’t despair.
God has a plan. And He loves us.