Mother’s Day

Whether you want to admit it or not, Mother’s Day is a day fraught with raw emotions. It’s a day that is meant to honor our mothers, and the truth is they deserve that and so much more. Mothers are awesome, and they need respect and honor every day of the year.

That being said, this Sunday there will be people who are missing their mothers. Nothing is more difficult or painful than losing your mother, and this day will bring up all of those emotions all over again.

There will be people who are sitting in your pew at church, trying to hold it together while they watch the little children give their mothers gifts and hugs and kisses.

Of course mothers deserve those things. No one’s saying they don’t. No one’s saying don’t celebrate and observe. No one is that much of a monster.

I’m just talking about those women who are forgotten. Those women who are silent. Those women who would never speak for themselves, because the last thing they would ever want to do is shift the spotlight from mothers to their own pain.

But, just because they’re silent doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real.

I can’t speak for all women. I am not all women. I am me. And personally, I have no real issues with Mother’s Day. It’s always been a fine day, because it’s not about me.

It’s not for me.

I’m not mother.

I never had a chance to be a mother.

That chance was taken away from me when I was ten years old. I’ve known from that young that it just wasn’t in the cards for me. Sure, there’s always adoption, an option I heartily endorse and value, but telling a woman “Well, you can always adopt” is like telling someone, “Well, you can always just use your left hand when I cut off your right hand.”

Sure, it’s possible.

But it sure as hell would be nice to have to option of using your right hand.

I’ve grown to accept this over the years, for the most part. It’s part of who I am, and I’m generally okay with who I am.

But, it’s a process of grieving. A process of acceptance. It isn’t something you’re told and you just nod and say “Okay. No kids. Sure. That sounds great.”

If you’ve never been told that, you don’t understand.

You just don’t.

And there’s nothing wrong with that.

There are parts of your life that I will never understand.

That’s just life. We all have something we have to deal with. This is my thing. Your thing is yours.

A lot of women out there struggle with it more than I have. A lot of women have gone through miscarriages and years of infertility treatments. A lot of women have gone through pain and tears and frustrations you will never understand.

You just won’t.

It’s their thing.

Not yours.

I’ll never fully understand, because I guess at least I knew since I as 10. I never had that spark of hope that it could happen for me. It was just part of my life that never existed, so how can I miss it? It’s like a phantom limb, you know it’s not there, but sometimes you can still feel it itch. Just a little.

Sometimes, it hurts. A lot.

It just does.

So, please. Appreciate your moms on Sunday. Love them. Honor them. Revere them. Have brunch with them.

Maybe just remember that sitting next to you might be someone who is in pain.

And that pain is real, whether you see it on their faces or not.

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