Not-So-Happy Mother's Day

I feel like crap and totally selfish. I was absolutely miserable on Mother's Day and wanted to crawl into a hole. It was worse than Valentine's Day. And I put off calling my own mother until the afternoon, which I felt completely guilty about because I love my mom dearly and she has been nothing but supportive...especially with enduring all of the crap that has been my life these past few years. She deserves more and she deserves better.

But I guess I just felt ticked off at the world with feeling like I was being dictated on when I should be expressing loving and heartfelt thank you's to mothers. I wanted to be stubborn, not have some day tell me when to share my appreciation to all the mothers out there and joining in the skipping rainbows and gushy moms are the best thing ever stuff surrounded by pink fluff and sweet flowery goodness. I even had someone wish me a happy mother's day on Friday as I left work. WTF? The first time I am wished a happy mother's day in my life and I am not even one year out of my divorce. Instead I was numb and just closed myself off.

When I talked to my mom, I wanted to tell her how I really felt on the inside. I wanted to tell her how much I appreciate her strength and unwavering support as I have gone through some of the very crappiest things in my life. I just wanted to get off of the phone because I knew I was doing a poor job of expressing any kind of genuine sentiment. I was so disappointed in myself.

And I felt crappy again when a friend of mine called to share in how terrible it was for her to deal with Mother's Day. I'm sorry, darling. I was numb and not doing a good job of supporting you in the way that I wanted. My heart aches for those who are not mothers and who so want to be mothers on this day. It is not even like Valentine's Day where you can be somewhat open about your anger. Who wants to be the jerk to openly vent about Mother's Day? It is again, one of those unspoken pains that many women carry as a burden for more reasons than I could imagine.

It wasn't until I talked to my mom today that I was able to really tell her how I feel. I told her when she comes into town that I would want celebrate her own Mother's Day. I told her I was sorry that I couldn't bring myself to really celebrate and thank her properly. She said she knew and it was why she called earlier in the week before Mother's Day. My mom had already thought it would be a real possibility the weekend could be difficult for me this year. She wanted to know how I was doing and if I was okay. (Humbly, with a gulp.) Wow. That's why I love my mom because she never stops loving me and she so often seems to be so aware and thoughtful. I don't know how she does it.

As much as I hate to admit it, this Mother's Day was just another reminder that I am not a mother and so very far away from that dream. It is just another reminder that I don't even have that someone special to share my life with to even begin to dream that dream again.

Which, that brings me to a little green sleeper and two teddy bear onesies.

I knew I was ready to give away the adoption books I had when I could look at them an not cry. I felt ready when I threw away all of the informational pamphlets from the various adoption agencies. With a deep breath and courage I knew it was time when I put the paperwork I completed from the chosen agency into the shredder. Although, I did cry when I returned the rest of the baby things I bought from the store. I was grateful for the lady behind the counter when she stopped herself from asking the reason for the returns or if there was anything wrong with the merchandise.

But I could not bring myself to return the little green sleeper and the two teddy bear onesies. I don't bring them out to look at them much. And with each rare time that I do, it hurts less. But for some reason I just cannot let them go just yet. I almost feel like if I give them up, that I am giving up on my dream of one day being a mother. When I bought them, I imagined putting them on my own Jamie baby and holding my little one. They almost represent a kind of hope, and it is a hope I am not ready to let go of yet.

But I also know that if I ever did have a child, I would not want to dress my child in those items. I know that one day I will donate them to someone in need. And maybe I will be able to detach my hope from them without having to give up on the dream. Sometimes it feels so foolish and silly to dream for a child when I don't even have the relationship to share in the dream. (And please do not tell me that I can be a mother without a husband...I don't want to do the single mother thing.)