I couldn’t figure out what the heck my problem was this week. Last night, while watching an episode of 16 & Pregnant that did not make me want to scream at the television, I got all weepy and googly eyed over the little baby. While watching the Today Show yesterday morning, I snotted on myself when they showed the Olympics commercial dedicated to moms (though that begs the question: will they have one for dads?). I’ve been a weepy mess and it’s not cycle-related.
So what the heck?
As I opened a document for work this morning, it all made sense: Ah, Mother’s Day.
It’s kind of hard to ignore it when I work as an editor whose specialty is Moms and Family. It’s been in my face for week. It likely took me this long to realize what my problem was because I’ve been treating Mother’s Day as work. It has been. I’ve been focused on it for weeks now, featuring posts and writing them and generally being knee-deep in a day that I don’t even like. Swell.
Now I’ve realized that the treating it like work doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist, hence the tears bubbling over into other random parts of my life. I should apologize to my husband tomorrow for weeping through almost all of our TV watching last night. He probably thought I was losing my mind. Then again, he probably understood and didn’t want to point it out. He’s smart like that.
On Saturday, I’m attending the Birthmother’s Day ceremony in Cleveland at Adoption Network Cleveland again this year. Again, I am faced with the fact that I don’t believe in having a separate and unequal day for birthmothers — but that I also long for a sense of community and understanding. Again, I think it helped to have a separate day for my loss, to acknowledge both the joy and pain in the relinquishment of my daughter. It still has an “ick” factor to it, in that I hate being shoved to the side. But I go. I need to be with other people who understand, who support me as I continue on this sometimes difficult path. I’m dragging one of my best friends with me this year who also happens to be an adoptive mom. We should have a snot-filled time together.
Sunday will come and go. My boys will give me hugs and kisses. My husband will love on me — and I will love on him because he unfortunately shares his birthday with Mother’s Day sometimes and that sometime is this year. The sun will set and the sun will rise on Monday and it will be over for a year.
I’m always asked what I want for Mother’s Day and I never have an answer. You can’t wrap what I want. You can’t have it delivered. You can’t cook it or bake it or order it from a store. My dream is always to have my children in the same place on Mother’s Day. Time and distance make that rather impossible at this stage in life, so I just keep my hope to myself that someday it could happen.
However, I will also accept Marigold Fiesta. What? I do like to unwrap presents.
