The Eternal Guest Room

I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.

Here we are again. Another kick in the stomach mother’s day. I remember each of them.

Three years ago I sat in church hopeful and excited and slightly terrified. I remember thinking “Oh my gosh, I’m going to be a mom soon. I could even be pregnant right now!”

Insert rolling of eyes and noises of disgust.

Two years ago I sat in church again, this time thinking “Why did I come here? Why am I torturing myself?” Those of you who are church-goers with IF know what a horrible service that is. The message is pretty clear: Mothers are God’s best and most wonderful people ever. Nothing is as good as being a mom. The mothers are honored, the children bring them flowers, everyone is happy.

I thought I was going to have a complete breakdown in the middle of the sanctuary.

I may never go to church on mother’s day again. Even if we have a child, I think the pain of this will always be with me. There is no greater reminder of what we’ve lost and been through than going to church on mother’s day. When I was in high school I went to a church that emphasized the importance of all women, not just the mothers; I didn’t realize until recently what a blessing that was.

Last year we were “out of town” (though just downtown) with a group of friends. Unfortunately one of them was pregnant, but it was still good to get away.

This year we’re getting out of town, for real just time, just the two of us. I have a feeling we’ll still be bombarded with reminders, but hopefully the wineries will help.

I never appreciated before how alienating the holidays can be for some people. You know that lots of people are alone for Christmas and you know that sucks, but you can’t really grasp how it feels to be in their shoes. Mother’s day is like that too. It really does feel like being punched in the stomach.

This week I’ve gotten at least 20 emails a day reminding me of this weekend. If we watched TV I’m sure I would have been bombarded by sweet, depressing ads. I doubt Hallmark sells cards for people who want to be mothers but can’t/aren’t. It’s a day when we remember how much we’ve been forgotten.

We really hoped that this year would be different. At the very least, we thought we’d have some hope when the day rolled around. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that our IUI would have probably been yesterday or today. It seems so cruel.

I’m actually having second thoughts about this weekend. I’m afraid it’s going to be everywhere. I hate how much this has affected everything about me. I hate that even a simple weekend away involves days of mental preparation. I wish I was stronger. I guess at this point it’s just a matter of making it through just this one year, one at a time.

I just really hope there’s not another year of this.