I knew Mother’s Day was going to be hard, but I wasn’t prepared for how unbelievably horrible I felt yesterday. I haven’t felt that awful since I miscarried. It was like I was reliving it all over again.
It didn’t really hit me until Saturday evening. And what’s worse, my husband didn’t really get it. He thought it was about him. It was his fault I wasn’t a mother yet. It was something he did wrong. And then he said that I would be a mother next Mother’s Day. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s said that the last two Mother’s Days as well. I don’t think he gets it. I don’t think this has affected him even a fraction of how it has affected me. If it has he doesn’t let it show.
I think it’s really starting to hit hard now because at my other job I got to the point I knew I would have to come to at some point. I registered someone who had my due date. I looked over her paper and noticed the due date. September 18, 2009. I just had to suck it up and congratulate her and tell her all the wonderful things the store has to offer and blah, blah, blah. What stung the most was that she had a beautiful baby bump.
That should be me. I should have a beautiful, round belly. I should be starting my baby registry. If I wanted to (which we had decided to be surprised) I would know what I was having. I should start thinking about my baby shower. I should start worrying about which pediatrician to choose. I should be interviewing potential child care centers or nannies or figuring out how to afford to stay home.
But I’m not.
I’m no closer to being a mom this Mother’s Day than I was last Mother’s Day. But this Mother’s Day was supposed to be different. This Mother’s Day was supposed to be happy and joyous and I was supposed to have a reason to celebrate. Instead I curled into the fetal position and cried my eyes out until I had to go to work. It took everything I had in me to make it through work. Thankfully, it was slow and the only new registry I had wasn’t due until September 24th. After work, I went home and went to bed. I think it must have been around 8:30 and I usually stay up until 11 or 12 so this is not normal for me. I couldn’t sleep though. I tossed and turned most of the night and was confused when I woke up this morning. I couldn’t remember what day it was or what time I had to get up. I hate that feeling.
Today was better. I smiled. I laughed. My husband wasn’t afraid of me. Things are back to “normal.” At least until next Mother’s Day.