Tomorrow is Mother's Day. It is the day when the most phone calls are made in the United States, and the most cards are sold by Hallmark. We all have a mother. Our mothers may not be with us physically, but they still live in our hearts and minds. And, like me, some of you might love your mother with all your heart - although sometimes she makes you want to scream. This year, my mother moved in to live with me. And this year, for the first time in 13 years, I will be forced to celebrate Mother's Day.
Please be patient with a personal diary. No politics today.
Wow...the rec list...thank you so much. I have never wrote about the twins, and haven't really talked about them to anyone until now.
Don't get me wrong. I have always sent the card and the present, and faithfully called my mother every year. But other than that, the day is usually spent staying in the house and avoiding every possible encounter with a loving Mom surrounded by her children.
Thirteen years ago, on April 1, 1997, I gave birth to twins at twenty-one weeks gestation. My daughter, Johanna April, weighed less than a pound. She lived for 5 hours. My son, John Aiden, weighed a little more than a pound, and he lived for 8 hours. They were born after three years of infertility treatments, many tests, and a husband who would tell friends that it had gotten to where every time I called his name that he would start to unzip his pants. They were longed for, wanted, prayed for and so much loved before they were conceived. When I went into premature labor at 16 weeks, I was put into the hospital and kept with my head lower than my feet until the day they were born. We knew that they would be early, but we didn't know that they wouldn't make it to the "magic 24th week" when most premies survive. When I went into labor that couldn't be stopped, and they were born, I was barely able to hold them because I had complications. My blood pressure was what they told me later was "incompatible with life" - but somehow they saved my life. However, my chance at having a child of my body was gone.
My marriage broke up within the year, which is something that happens a lot to couples who lose babies. I tried adopting as a single woman, but was told over and over not to get my hopes up. Adoptive parents are chosen by the birth mothers - and high school English teacher/single mothers are not high on the list of the chosen. I applied with several agencies, but nothing ever came of it.
The reason I am writing this diary is not to say "poor me". Please understand that point. I wouldn't take back one day of my pregnancy, or the experience of giving birth - although I wish that it had come out differently. My purpose is to say that my experience isn't all that rare. There are women out there who have been through a lot more than I have - years upon years of treatments, loss of multiple pregnancies, and serious complications. And Mother's Day is difficult for all of us. It is a day when we are forced to look at our own non-Mom status and realize that we won't have the homemade cards or the burned toast for breakfast. We also won't have the first tooth, first word, first poop in the potty or the first day of school. We won't have the chance to stay up all night waiting for the fever to break, or waiting in the emergency room for the broken arm to be set. But probably, the most important thing, is that we won't ever hear someone call us "Mom".
So...to the point. If your Mother is still with you, thank her. If she isn't, remember the love and celebrate it. If you are a Mother, enjoy the day and kiss your little ones a lot. But if you have a friend or relative who has lost a child, realize that this day is really difficult for her. Try to be understanding when she doesn't want to be a part of the family celebration, or she doesn't want to hear about the things your kids did for you. Because on Mother's Day, she is grieving the loss of her child all over again, no matter how long it has been.