I’m going to warn you. This is not going to be a popular post.
Mother’s Day disturbs me.
I was pregnant this time last year. My doctor had just become concerned with my ever climbing blood pressure. I was seeing spots every now and then. I was short of breath. They were the first signs that something was not right.
Well meaning people felt the need to wish me a “Happy Mother’s Day”. It turned my stomach each time. I kept thinking, “Haven’t any of you people heard the cliche about counting your chickens?” Instead, I politely smiled as I prayed inside.
Today, on Mother’s Day, I am not celebrating being a mom. I do that every day. Instead, my thoughts are drifting off to the women who have lost babies, the couples that struggle with infertility, the children who lose moms, and those other relationships that are too complicated to put into words (foster kids, etc).
It all bothers me because I know how close I was to being included among those people.
Maybe it is some of the residual guilt I feel from my baby surviving the NICU. I do not know why… I feel that Mother’s Day is a needlessly cruel obligatory day.
I understand that there are people out there that deserve to be recognized. If you feel the need to honor a special person, celebrate them every day through the little things. One day of recognition is pointless and even kind of tacky.