Bittersweet

Mother's Day has always been a weird day for me. Well, I suppose not always. Maybe just since I started trying to have kids? Was there life before TTC? I can't remember it. I've never been one to wallow on Mother's Day and I know that for many infertile myrtles this day is an incredibly painful day. I didn't find it painful before I became a mother, I just found it... uncomfortable. Like I didn't really know my place in the world. Certainly I had my own mother to celebrate, and that was enough reason not to hide from the day, but there were pangs of emptiness in my heart for what I was missing, of course.

Then we got J. But even then, my first Mother's Day with him was odd. I wasn't quite a mother. I was a guardian. That first year with him, well, it was temporary. We were never supposed to have him permanently, and we knew that we only had another 6 months with him, at best, so Mother's Day for me that year was excrutiating. It was all I could do to pick up the phone and acknowledge my own mother. Others were thoughtful enough to acknowledge that year as my first Mother's Day, but I couldn't think of it that way, knowing that it could all be ripped away from me. I was so emotionally guarded then, as I'm sure you can imagine. By the second year that we had J, when we still weren't sure how long we would have him, I readily acknowleged my role as "mother", but it was still an odd day. I wasn't his "real" mother, of course, but I was his mother. But I'd sort of missed the opportunity to celebrate my "first" Mother's Day, hadn't I? And so it went. Now it seems likely that we'll have him forever, and there isn't a single piece of me that considers myself anything less than his "real" mother. I am the only mother he knows and I deserve that title in full.

Then in August 2006 I got pregnant, and I was due at the end of April, and I thought how nice it would be to be due just in time to have Mother's Day shortly thereafter. Even I was shocked at the brazenness of such a thought, so I quickly followed the thought with, "You know, if I make it that far." Of course, I didn't make it that far. I made it three months and then miscarried. So much for that thought. Serves me right for thinking like that, right? But I suppose all things happen for a reason, because if I hadn't had that miscarriage, I wouldn't have been able to get pregnant the following February with these amazing triplets, right?

I frankly don't remember last Mother's Day. I'm sure I was throwing up or on bed rest or something. But most of last year is a blur, so that's no surprise. But this year? This year was just... well, it was my fourth mother's day, but also my FIRST mother's day. And while I still feel the emptiness of infertility sometimes, today I held my children in my arms and told them how much I love them and I told them how long I've waited to hold my babies on Mother's Day. And I told J that some children grow in mommies' bellies, and some children grow in mommies' hearts, and I'm so grateful that G*d chose me to take care of him.

For a long time I cried every day with emptiness and sorrow for the children I did not have. Today, like nearly every day since September 19th, I wiped away tears of joy and gratitude for the children I do have. Infertility still plagues me. I'm not done with this albatross that hangs around my neck and I know I want more children and I know I'll be going through this purgatory again soon. But I know now, looking at my babies, that I have the strength to make it through infertility hell again. Because I know what the light at the end of the tunnel shines on.

I know for so many of you out there, your struggle is still going on, and this day is as painful as ever. I'm mindful of the fact that my blog is more of a mom-blog than an infertility blog these days, and I know that changes my readership to some extent, but I also know I've got some infertility-bloggers that are still reading. I pray for you every day that your struggle should come to an end soon and that you should experience that blessing of motherhood (or fatherhood) as soon as possible. I was lucky enough to experience motherhood before I got pregnant, so I had a glimpse into the joy that was ahead of me, but still... I know not everyone has the same experiences that I have. I hope that your journey through infertility is a short one, and if it's already been a long journey (it's always too long, of course), I hope that it ends soon.

Comments

[In Search of Morning Sickness]

I want to tell you that your last paragraph meant SO much to me, as I'm sure it did other readers. We know you've walked where we've been, and even though you've got more of a mom-blog going, I read every single entry. Since my miscarriage after IVF #2 I've found it hard to comment, but not to read. Your wit, humor, and honesty make it always a joy to be a part of your online community.Thank you for remembering all of us with your compassion. You are a remembrance to us of where we WANT to be someday. So you give hope.

[Anonymous]

Karen --This is the loveliest thing I've read about Mother's Day this year -- thank you.- Another DC Karen

[chicklet]

This was a really great post. I don't think you HAVE to recognize us infertility bloggers still reading, but comparing what you've gone through, and knowing what we're still going through, it was really very nice. Happy belated mother's day.

[Anonymous]

I love reading about the blessings in your life, but I, too, wanted to thank you for your last paragraph. It's looking like I'll never have a child of my own--three years of trying, and now my husband and I are divorcing, and I'm close to 40. But I haven't lost the ability to enjoy the miracles I've read about here, baruch Hashem.