Mother’s Day Grief

Mother’s Day is in 11 days. I am a mother to a beautiful, energetic, witty, 3 (nearly 4) year-old girl. And yet, when making plans for our annual celebration with family, I was struck with pangs of grief. Why? Why does a lump form in my throat when I picture myself honoring this routine, yet special holiday with my people whom I love? And like a brick landing on my chest, there it was. I am missing him/her. The baby that has left me so many times. The child who I cannot conceive and fear I’ll never hold. In my heart, I feel attached to this unborn being. I have experienced this baby coming and going so many times over the past couple of years and I long for him/her. I am missing you, sweet one.

To be clear, I have never experienced a miscarriage to date and I certainly do not want to compare the roller coaster of potentially being pregnant and finding out that I’m not each month to the loss that is experienced by those who miscarry their babies. Mine is an emotional and physical experience, but it is not a miscarriage by medical standards. Rather, it is a fullness turned to emptiness with each passing cycle. It’s hope and readiness in my mind, heart, and body that morphs into emptiness, despair, and grief. That horrid cycle has been especially true as I’ve been placed on various medications and undergone treatments as my body is ‘prepared’ for a pregnancy that never happens. Because with more hope and readiness comes more emptiness when it doesn’t ‘work’.

How can I miss someone I’ve never met before? I’m not quite sure. Maybe it’s all the times I’ve seen this baby’s face in my dreams. The way I can feel his/her weight inside of me or in my arms during those dreams. Or the twinges in my body right before another period starts that send waves of adrenaline through my entire being in the hopes that ‘this might be it!’ The way he/she seems to sink farther away from me each time a treatment doesn’t work. It could be the moments when our daughter asks me, ‘Mommy, when is our baby coming?’ with such innocence. And the knowing that our family is not complete. Perhaps it’s the baby toys and clothes that have been carefully stored away in bins that are collecting dust. Or the way our daughter plays alone and refers to our dog as ‘her sister.’ All of it. It’s all of it and more. And it breaks my heart.

Being a mother has been the most difficult aspect of our infertility struggle. I’m surrounded by everything kid and baby because our daughter is pre-school age. This is the time when most people are growing their families. It’s impossible not to notice that most of my daughter’s friends have siblings. I wonder if she sees this too and if it makes her sad. Maybe it doesn’t. But it might. With each pregnancy announcement of ‘Baby #2!’ or 3 or 4, I become acutely aware of time and how it feels like it is slipping away. And, of course, there is the guilt that any mom coping with Secondary Infertility is aware of. The guilt that doesn’t always allow me to fully feel my feelings as they come and go because it shouts at me, ‘You have a wonderful child, be grateful!’ The mother in me wonders if I am causing damage to our very real child in order to conceive another child who may or may not ever truly exist. Sometimes it feels as if ‘Mother’ is synonymous with ‘Guilt.’ I know plenty of other fantastic mothers who feel guilt about an array of issues when it comes to their children. The guilt is real.

Mother’s Day was and is an important celebration within my family. ‘Mother’ is one of my favorite pieces of my identity. I will honor it and I will embrace the mothers in my life. The brave, enduring women who love their children and show up for motherhood each and every day. I will hold my daughter a little longer on that day. And I will certainly let some tears fall for the baby in my dreams.

*Gratitude: Today, I am grateful for my daughter’s teachers. Three mornings a week my daughter attends pre-school and I am beyond grateful to know that she is with adults who care about her and have the patience and training to guide her within a school setting.