I debated whether or not to spend it A) eating an entire cake with my face only, B.) mournfully whimpering into my comforter while wallowing in my bed, or C.) a mixture of A and B. I'm sure there are plenty of worn-out mothers in this world that are so exhausted that this is how they spend every Mother's Day. However,, the thing that separates them and me happens to be the small, yet significant fact that I am not a mother. This small, yet significant fact remains the reason that, for me, Mother's Day feels fucking apocalyptic.
It's like I'm on the wrong side of the Rapture.
Every commercial, every advertisement, every person deems it to be a moral imperative to worship mothers today. All of this resulting of course in me feeling horribly wasted and inadequate as a woman. As a good feminist, I should know better, but it doesn't seem to make any difference. It goes beyond any particular philosophical ideology or dogma that I have ever embraced. It just comes down to a girl being unable to achieve the one and only thing she ever truly want in life: to be a mother, to make a family with the person she loves.
You see, every year I make the unfortunate assumption that this will be the last Mother's Day that I don't get to celebrate. Such a stupid assumption; obviously, it never ends well. It puts tremendous pressure on me, giving myself this timeline.
Year after year, my heart is broken. And no, I'm not throwing that term around. My heart is broken, and there's just no getting around it.
I really don't want to dwell on feeling like this. It can't be good for my constitution. I've been desperately trying to collect happy thoughts and consolations. It always starts, "Oh, I wouldn't be able to______ if I actually had kids" or "We won't be able to do this once we actually have kids." True, I've done some great things. Involvement in theater. Consistently running and getting into [better] shape. Fostering a starving artist. Falling asleep next to the man I love every night. I wish that were enough; all of them have been such a beautiful part of my life. Don't think for a moment that I'm not immensely grateful: I am.
I'm just....incomplete.
Some have been a bit insensitive, although not intentionally: church is a miserable place on Mother's day. If I have to hear the words "children are a blessing" one more time, I'm going to vomit like Linda Blair. I also didn't entirely appreciate the looks of disapproval from all the older ladies as I walked into the sanctuary in my heels and low-cut dress, childless as always. I know what ladies like that are thinking. After all, I grew up Lutheran.
I know it's hard for Jacob to see me so upset. It's even harder for him to talk about it. And we actually did. The other day. I did most of the
I will also say this: I don't know if he reads this blog or not, but I want to say this: David is exactly who and what I need in my life right now. Even if I go into detail about why, it'll just circle back to that very statement. I just...love that human being so much.
A beloved friend did the most wonderful thing for me today. It was so...perfect. It was just an email, a reminder that she was thinking about me. But it validated everything in my heart. I immediately burst into tears. Okay, okay, I'm still a little weepy. She understood that there was no way she could understand how I would be feeling, but she knew that what I had hoped for on this day, that it wasn't a reality, and that all she could do was provide support and positivity. In doing that, I think she might have just saved me thousands of dollars in therapy.
So, I guess I'll soldier on through the rest of the day; I can make it through a few more hours. I'm sure I'll feel less destroyed tomorrow.
Instead of giving myself I timeline this year, I want to give an alternative:
I hope this is the last Mother's Day that makes me feel like this. I hope by next year, I'll feel so fulfilled that it doesn't matter.
Fair enough, right?
Love you!
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