Mother's Day is right around the corner. And for an unexpected and exciting twist this year...I don't really care.
It's true. I keep forgetting it's about to happen and then when I remember and expect the feelings of rage and sadness to overwhelm me like they have every other May for the last six years...they don't. I give it a minute and then just shrug it off and move on with my day. Mother's Day is Sunday. I don't even really care.
I feel like a traitor or something. Like a disgrace to the sisterhood of the infertile. I try to rally up some emotion. This is your sixth infertile Mother's Day!! Oh the injustice!! You lost a baby six months ago! This should be even MORE painful than usual!! And yet...nothing. I'm either remarkably well-adjusted and emotionally mature or I'm completely numb. I'm really not sure which it actually is, so we'll go with the former.
For four years I've skipped church on Mother's Day. My own personal boycott of the holiday, plus a chance to miss out on feeling like I'm the only non-mother in the world. I also feel like my absence makes it easier on everyone else. My church family is compassionate and amazing, but no doubt me not being there saves folks a lot of awkwardness. So that's just my 'thing'. No church on Mother's Day. But this year? I dunno, I think I'll go. Not because I particularly want to make people feel weird by being there, or because I'm dying for pity and attention, but because we've been out of town a lot the past month and I miss my church. And I just can't muster up enough Mother's Day bitterness to make me want to stay home. So maybe I'll just go.
It's just weird. I expected this year's Mother's Day to be the worst. By all accounts, it should be. Another year of infertility topped off with a failed adoption? It's been the most painful, excruciating, tear-filled year of awfulness...a few months ago I was like pre-dreading the dread of Mother's Day. Ha. I figured I'd have to leave the country or something for basically the whole month of mid-May to mid-June to cover both parental holidays. But now here we are, and here I am not caring. Maybe it's because the pain of Mother's Day is so tiny and symbolic compared to our other physical loss. I don't know. I keep trying to probe deep and get to the bottom of this weirdness, but then I figure that maybe I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. It's not like I want to be in more pain and experience extra anger, ha. I should just be thankful for the gift of non-bitterness and move on.
All of that said, I'm no dummy. I will still probably require some lavish gifts from Ulta from Matt in order to make it through Sunday. I can probably drum up a few tears if that's what it takes to get the new Tarte eyeshadow palette. Actually, could that be why I'm doing so well? Could it be that my passion for becoming a mom has been soothed by my enthusiasm for makeup acquisition (which is infinitely easier and cheaper than REs and adoption agencies)? Interesting theory. I have spent a lot more money on makeup in the six months since The Awfulness, so maybe there's something to this. Maybe Ulta should start paying me to set up makeup tables in the waiting rooms of infertility clinics or something! Everybody would benefit.
Anyway, here we are. T-minus three days and I'm still not caring. I think I'll call it a win.