Mother’s Day has always been OK for me. As my huge family gets together and celebrates all the women who are mothers, I have slowly become the last one who isn’t. While it’s painful, it’s also important because it reminds my super fertile family that infertility exists. I get to help in the kitchen, distract myself, and feel like I’m contributing. It’s actually OK. I do get a lot of side glances, and “when it’s meant to be it will be” comments, which makes it a bit awkward, but I can handle it. I know when I do finally get to be a mother, it will be all the more wonderful.
This year, someone made the decision to promote my pups (they are my babies) to the level of children, and group me in with all the other mothers in the celebration. Surely intended to make me feel included and celebrated.
But it didn’t. For the first time this year, no one mentioned my infertility. No one even acknowledged it. Instead, I sat with the other Mothers and listened to stories about childbirth and nursing and toddlers and potty training and Christmas mornings and packing for dance competitions – experiences I will never have with my furbabies. The longer I listened, the more I felt myself falling further and further into the abyss.
When I got home, I climbed into my bed and stayed there until I had no option but to get up. This Mother’s Day, which had been intended to make me feel included, made me feel more alone than any other Mother’s Day before it. So alone, that it has taken me a week just to find the courage to write about it.
I am not ready for my story to be over, but sitting there listening to them all pretend I was a mother too made me realize that they are. 7 years into my infertility journey, and they’ve all given up on me. No one asks me where we are anymore. No one brings it up…for too many years I’ve been saying “Not yet, but we’re still hopeful”. While I know it wasn’t intended that way, it just feels like the end. And I am NOT ok with it.
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