3 May 2012
One year. One month. One week. One day.
I have been a mother for over a year, yet I never changed my own child's diaper.
I have had sleepless nights for over a year, yet the only one crying is me.
I have celebrated my daughter's first birthday, yet there is no picture of her eating her birthday cake.
For the last year I watched others get pregnant, give birth, bring home babies. I watched other people's children grow, learn, laugh.
Soon will be my second mother's day. The day I and many others dread. I will be home that day. Leaving the house will not bring me any joy. Someone might mistake me for a non-mother. I'll have to watch others bask in their glory of the day. Confined to the safety of my home, I will observe the day.
A few days ago I overheard a mother of two young children complain about mother's day. I wanted to strangle her. How dares she? I understand she didn't know that next to her was a brokenhearted momma, aching to hold her baby, jealous of the stroller and the car seat with a wiggly baby and the toddler in a carrier on the dad.
She spoke as a person who has no clue. But that is no excuse. Bereaved mothers are everywhere, they are of all ages, races, professions.
So this Mother's day, and Every day, please keep us in mind.
Please be gentle.
Please be kind.