All day long it’s
been cutesy posts all over Facebook about how great Mother’s Day is. But not to
me. I’ve never liked Mother’s Day. Ironically, my mom didn’t like Mother’s Day
either.
Mom didn’t like it because at church on Mother’s Day Sunday,
they would hand out flowers by category: the newest mother, the mother with the
most kids, the youngest mother, the oldest mother, etc. Because my parents
adopted me when they were age 50, my mom was ALWAYS the oldest mom – and she
HATED it. Some of the other categories were cute, but Mom was offended when
they handed her a rose for being “The Oldest Mother”, especially since it
involved her having to admit her age in the process.
And I’ve never been a
mother. Oh, I tried. Tried and tried and tried, for years I tried. And when
you’re battling infertility and Mother’s Day rolls around – well, it’s just
another painful reminder. I never fit into any of those categories of
Motherhood, and on more than one occasion I went home from church that Sunday
and cried.
My mom died 15 years ago, so the only way to visit her is to
go to the cemetery – and cemeteries aren’t exactly happy, cheerful Mother’s Day
spots. I do go to visit the cemetery regularly, and I typically take flowers.
But Mother’s Day is not only a reminder that I have never been a mother, but
that I don’t have one around anymore either. Honestly, this year I just decided
to pass on the whole thing – it’s just too painful to face.
Yes, I love my mom. She was a fabulous woman and a terrific
mom. I miss her all the time. And today most of all.
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