Mother’s Day: The Voldemort of holidays.

I know…I know…..Mother’s Day is to be cherished. Yeah. Whatever.

Mother’s Day is single handedly the worst day of the year for me and every other person struggling to have a child. Every. Single. Year.

I’ve said previously that church is VERY hard. It should be a place for peace…but the place is full of families with children and a constant reminder of my failure. But church on Mother’s Day!? That is a special kind of torture. Mothers are given flowers, the pastor or priest talks about the value of the mother to your family and to the world. Moms are asked to stand and be recognized. Donuts will be served directly after this service. Oh….(as an after thought/consolation prize)…..those other women who don’t have children!? You can stand too.

I stopped going to church on Mother’s Day many years ago. I realized that instead of listening to the message (you know….about how awesome moms are) I was planning my Jason Bourne escape route. The entire time.

It was a little something like this: Stand up quietly while trying to look invisible > Excuse me > Excuse me > Excuse me > Step over someone’s purse > Excuse me > I’m so sorry > Excuse me > Accidentally step on someone’s freaking bouquet of Mother’s Day flowers > Excuse me > HOW LONG IS THIS ROW? SHEESH! > Thank you > Excuse me >   Leave the pew and start the 20 yard dash. Successful escape!

Ready for bad idea of the day #2?

Like many families, we headed to lunch after church. On Mother’s Day. It was obvious that the 16 year old greeting the customers was told to hand the flowers in his bucket only to the moms. First, bad idea, restaurant. How in the world can that ever end well!?

So he asked each woman who walked in. “Are you a mother? Are you a mother? I’m supposed to hand these to the moms. Are you a mom?” No. But I do have mace in my purse. Ask me again.

I stopped going to restaurants on Mother’s Day the year I threatened a 16 year old restaurant greeter.

The irony of all of this is that I think moms should be honored and cherished. It is a huge responsibility to positively influence a child into a successful, confident and productive adult. That happens with a lot of blood, sweat, tears and “CLOSE THE DOOR”s.  Moms should be appreciated. Especially my mom. She put up with a lot from my brother. I, of course, was an angel.

Mother’s Day will always be a double edge sword for me. I love being able to recognize my mom and mother in law and all of the incredible moms I know. It will always be hard though…..because I have never had anyone call me mom. And that doesn’t seem like a big deal….until it never happens.

For now, I am finding peace on the day which I once despised and feared. And YOU have helped. So has changing the routine. The restaurant thing is obviously a no-go. So, we eat lunch at the house and do absolutely nothing. Sometimes we head to the movies so I can escape into the darkness….Jason Statham has a way of making me forget all of my troubles…….

3 Comments on Mother’s Day: The Voldemort of holidays.

  1. Girlfriend, I feel and share your pain, all too well. Even when I was a regular church-goer, I didn’t go on Mother’s Day. People who haven’t experienced the childless life just have no idea how painful it is. But yesterday and last year were the only two years of my life that Mother’s Day was not bad and that is because we DID go to lunch to celebrate it. Of course, I haven’t experienced anyone asking me if I am a mother, but even at this point I know what my answer would be: “Yes, I have two wonderful furbabies!” In fact, last year I bought myself a Mother’s Day gift–a mug that says “My child has four paws and fur.” And now when a greeter or waiter wishes me a happy Mother’s Day, I just say, “Thank you.” Because I am a mother–to those wonderful furbabies who need me every bit as much as a human child would.

    Yes, I still get sad, but it isn’t the over-whelming desperation I’ve experienced in the past. Guess after being on this earth for 65 years, I’ve come to accept the fact that no one will ever call me mom or grandma. The closest I ever came was 14 years ago when my stepson called me to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. We’d been in each other’s lives for more than 13 years, but his mother had always been a barricade of sorts, keeping him and his sister from realizing that it was okay to accept me. Just two months later, he was gone–dead from an overdose. How could I not miss him on Mother’s Day more than on any other day of the year? But the pain is less debilitating than it was in the past. Yes, acceptance is a big part of it. But the biggest help, the key to it all, is having friends like you who know and understand. We are here for each other, and we know that no explanations are necessary if one of us calls the other for a shoulder to cry on . . . for someone to share the burden of loss, of hopelessness, of uselessness, of wondering why we were ever even born. But you have an advantage over some of us. You are a huge success in other areas–you are not only beautiful (inside and out), but you are also smart, funny, and talented. You have achieved much in your career, and knowing your mom, I am sure that you had encouragement when you were growing up, to go to college, get a career, and succeed in business of some kind. But I was born near the end of an age when little girls were only taught that we needed to become good wives and mothers. We were expected to cook and clean, to marry, and to have babies. No more. I was never encouraged to do well in school. No one ever asked me where I planned to go to college, because no one expected me to go. I am so glad that those times are gone (at least in America). Every little girl should be encouraged to do more with her life than to want only a husband and a child. Because you never know what life will bring you. You never know when you will be like us–women who experience the childless life. God bless you for your blog, my friend. I love you and am here for you, and for any others out there who need an understanding friend.

    1. You make a VERY good point about the difference in generations and how expectations molded choices. It also molded perceptions….and why some of us still struggle with shame of infertility. I pray that in twenty years there will not be the horrible stigma of childlessness.

      You are amazing, BTW. Your comments are so raw, so honest. Love you bunches.

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