Mother's Day Meltdown

The signs were everywhere that I should have just stayed in bed on Sunday, Mother's Day. Instead, I decided to follow my normal routine and go to church.

The first sign was that every outfit that I tried on was either too tight or had something else wrong with it. I wanted to look fresh and springy, but the only suit that fit properly was grey and blah. So, I got dressed and headed out to Sunday School. The main street that I take to church was closed for some reason, so I had to go several blocks out of the way, but hey, no biggie, right? Well, I get to church only to discover that the classes are cancelled. And that gives me 2 hours to kill before church. Since I live pretty close (about a 10 minute drive)I decided to go home and wait for my hubby to go back for the actual service. Of course on my way out the door, someone said to me "Oh happy Mother's Da...wait....you AREN'T a mother. Never mind." This person does not know my situation, but DANG, it still hurt my feelings. When I get back to my neighborhood, I was thwarted by a breast cancer walk. The one street that was blocked earlier turned into EVERY street being blocked. GAAH! Every street leading to my house was blocked. I thought about going grocery shopping to kill some time, but I had on high heels. Plus I didn't want to run the risk of having to keep the groceries in my car until after church. So I drove around for a while. thinking. about. being. childless. My two miscarriages. Curses on Hallmark for inventing stupid Mother's Day. Then the floodgates guarding my eyes sprung a leak. Just a little leak. A small sign of things to come.

I managed to get home through the alley. My hubby was getting ready for church. While I'm waiting, I watched an interview of Oprah on BET. She was yammering about her legends ball and how certain women inspired her as a child and she wanted to honor them, and how she hasn't forgotten where she came from blah, blah, blah. So what the heck, I started welling up again. For what, I don't know.

So the hubby is finally ready and we head off to church. I told him about the woman telling me that I am not a mother...he says, are you sure you want to go? We could go to breakfast? I told him no. None of my clothes fit this morning, so a giant stack of blueberry pancakes swimming in butter is not what I need. Lord, I need to learn to listen to my husband.

We get to church and of course, there is a huge Mother's Day Production. "We want to honor all mothers who gave birth to their child, adopted children, foster mothers, mothers who have passed on, mothers who for whatever reason did not raise their children, yada, yada, yada." Flowers, sentimental music, the works. So of course the floodgates busted wide open. I could not stop weeping. openly. For all to see, including my brother in law, his wife and her parents (they are the ministers). So I left. My husband drove me home. Actually, he dropped me off and went to run some errands. Not one bit of comfort. Not a hug. Not an encouraging word. He said, why don't you go in and take a nap. Maybe you'll feel better. Aaaaahhhhhh! (Sidenote: I wish he could take a class on sensitivity. Lately, he has none.)

I was feeling so overwhelmed with grief. Grief over the baby I lost last year and the baby I lost just a few months ago. I was sad that no one in my family knows about our recent loss and my husband does not know how to comfort me. I have yet to see him express any grief. (I know he took the last miscarriage really hard...he told me that he cried, but I never saw it.)

I like to think that I am a strong woman. I am smart, decisive and in control. I can usually pull myself up by my bootstraps when life strikes a painful blow. The past few months, I thought I was making great progress in dealing with all that has happened. I'm working every day, functioning like a regular person. And I have a lot to be thankful for in my life. I am thankful that my mom is alive and kicking, we have a good relationship and I appreciate all that she does in my life. I did my best to honor her on Mother's day with a gift, flowers and I managed to pull myself together to take her and my mother in law to dinner. But man, oh, man, my pain felt fresh on Sunday, like my miscarriage had just happened that day. The tears have stopped. But the sadness has not.