Shut up, Mother's Day

This day is torture and I want to punch it in the face.

When I imagined this day at the beginning of my pregnancy, I expected to be 15 weeks along, just past the paranoia of the first trimester. I imagined a new dress, happily being pampered by my husband through flowers and gifts, enjoying church and then brunch with my family, dinner with the in-laws. I imagined myself relishing that I was indeed a mother FINALLY, with my baby and I separated only by the muscles and skin of my stomach.

The reality is much different. Instead, my baby and I are separated by worlds and time and will never be united in life. The thought of the celebration I naively planned in my mind sends me into despair. The mental image of the traditional Mother's Day sermon, of attending a brunch filled with happy mothers with their babies and baby bumps and adoring husband fills me with both sadness and rage all at the same time.

I fluctuate between my brain telling me indignantly, "You ARE a mother - just your baby is in heaven." When I feel this way, I am devastated that though I know this, though my husband knows this, no one else around me knows this. It will not be acknowledged by a cheery "Happy Mother's Day" or a special free dessert at a restaurant because I have nothing to show, no proof that I dreamed of and loved and nurtured my child as all the other mothers who are wiping noses or offering sippy cups do.

The other half of the time, all I can think is, "You ARE NOT a mother." You don't have a baby inside of you, or in your arms, so you are not a mother. Part of the definition of mother is being able to protect and keep your children, and you were not able to do that, so OBVIOUSLY you are not a mother. Your body failed you, or you failed you by whatever choices you did or didn't make during the pregnancy, or God failed you... Either way, you don't have a bump or a baby, so you are not a mother. Mother's Day is for mothers, and you aren't one.

I feel bipolar and I think Jason is a bit scared and overwhelmed. He recognizes me as a mother - both for carrying Wild Thing, going through all I did through the miscarriage, and also for all that I do for Duke, Maddie, Alice and Hazel. I don't think he understands when I am in the, "I am not a mother" stage because he feels that HE is a FATHER and whether our baby is in Heaven or on earth, he still conceived and loved a child. I think he thinks that I am even more -effed up for not recognizing my motherhood.

I found this post from a blog when I first lost Wild Thing (oh, God, I miss him. I think I might die.) I don't remember what blog it was from, so if you know, please send me the link so I can give credit where credit is due. I remember thinking," I better save this for Mother's Day," even though at the time I couldn't comprehend what I would or would not be feeling. When I read it, it helps me, so I thought maybe it could help other women who happen upon this blog as well.

"I know it can be a hard day. Every marquee at every restaurant touts it. Sentimental commercials broadcast emotion. Your inbox swells with gift suggestions. The grocery store explodes with floral arrangements.

And here you are. Your baby isn’t here. You expected a swelling belly, or maybe even the bundle to be here. Or like me, maybe yours should have been scrawling crayoned rainbows on handmade cards by now.

But, you feel you have nothing.

Think of this way:
• Did you feel joy when you learned you were pregnant?
• Did you plan and hope and dream about the day your baby would arrive?
• Did you want nothing more than a happy, healthy little one?

How is this different than every other mother? Are mothers whose children die full grown any less mothers because their children are no longer here? Of course not.

You are a mother. You were the bearer of that baby’s future. You brought this baby into the world, however it happened, at four weeks gestation, or full term, in a gush of blood and pain just like every mother does.

Don’t believe for a moment that everything out there isn’t talking about you. It is. And even more so, because you have born a grief that could destroy a mother’s hope–the loss of her child–and you have survived.

It’s your day. Take it to remember your baby. And send up a quiet word of thanks to your own mother, wherever she may be."



So, now excuse me while I go cry in the shower (the best place to cry so that your neighbors don't hear your wailing and think your husband is beating on you).




UPDATE: The mother's day article I quoted can be found below. This is one of the sites that REALLY helped me but I couldn't remember how to find it again when I wrote my post that included helpful miscarriage links. This site is blessing - a mix of thorough practical information and emotional support. Thanks, Pam, for forwarding me the link!
http://pregnancyloss.info/2007/05/as-mothers-day-approaches/