Today is Mothers’ Day, the celebration of all women who, in one way or another, hold the title of Mama.
I look at my mother, my role model and, to me, the epitome of what it means to be Mom. And I wouldn’t give up the relationship I have with her for the world. She is one of my best friends and, though there isn’t anyone who fits the ‘perfect’ label, I’d say she comes pretty close.
There’s a small part of me that’s grieving today as well. I’m trying my best to focus on a celebration of all things Mom today, but there’s that piece of my heart that is black and saddened by the passage of another Mothers Day without the promise of a child. My fourteenth cycle ended Friday, and, while I was expecting it, I wasn’t prepared for the timing of it all.
We’ve stopped trying, as far as dedicated charting, temping and obsessing goes. We’re on the ‘not trying, not preventing’ bandwagon, and it makes me sick to think that valuable months are slipping away. While I was mentally preparing myself for the total release of control that this would require, I wasn’t ready for the slap in the face that was Mothers Day.
I will be a mother one day, in one form or another. I can’t imagine anything different, because I can’t cope with anything different. And my heart breaks for those of you in similar situations- the tunnel is dark and there’s no visible light at the end. But it’s coming, eventually. And there’s always hope.