There is a club and I'm not a part of it. I keep sending in my application, but I keep getting rejected over, and over, and over again. It's a pretty cool club. If it wasn't, I would have given up and said screw it quite a while ago. The thing is, it's not a club you belong to based on merit. You can't win, or buy, you can't plead or earn your way into the club. Believe me, I've tried. No. Admittance into the club comes from one thing: You have to be a mom.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. As you can imagine, this day takes on a whole new meaning for infertiles. Not being a mother, I don't know how important this day is to moms, but I have to imagine that it becomes more important to many infertile women than it does to moms. To infertile women, it becomes this symbolic day of our failures. Not only are we not mothers, but unlike a zillion of the moms who just "happened" to become one, we've been working at it, and FAILING at it for a really long time.
In honor of the day, I encourage you, mother or not, infertile or not, to go read my friend
Erika's post. She wrote it in honor of Mother's Day 2012, and I believe it still rings true for her today. So I'll wait, go read it now.
No really, this won't make any sense unless you read it. Go read
it now.
Done? Great.
Infertiles everywhere are drying their eyes. Erika has a way with words, and this one makes me cry every time I read it.
If you aren't infertile, but you aren't a mom either, I hope that this, if nothing else, gives you a tiny glimpse, a peak through the window, into what life as an infertile woman is like. If you are the friend of an infertile, maybe this explains some of the erratic, irrational behavior. Heck, maybe this encourages you to make a baby
today because you don't want to be me or Erika. Regardless, I hope that this helps in some way.
If your a mom, I imagine there's some push-back to this. I read the comments from moms to Erika's post both at the original publish date and when she reposted in December. I know that some moms don't appreciate the "be thankful" message. And I get that. There are some moments, whatever your struggle is, that you just want to rant. Complaining to someone, anyone, makes you feel better. I get that. However, I think the idea to be thankful, even in the storm is applicable to all of us.
I imagine it like this: It's recently become fashionable to complain about something, but then say or write "first world problems". Meaning, I know that what I'm complaining about is a luxury to 90% of the world. I'm griping about the disproportionate mix of espresso to syrup in my Starbucks latte, while the 90% would just like clean drinking water. Saying "first world problems" A- allows you to still complain and B- is a subtle reminder to yourself that you've still got it pretty good.
Erika's letter to new moms isn't a diatribe in which she says that in your exhausted, sleep deprived, shirt stained existence you can never complain or ask for help. It's not that. What she
is drawing your attention to is the fact that messy or not, stinky or not, grouchy or not, your child (children) are a blessing. Period. End of story. You have been blessed. So in the quite of that 3am feeding when all you want it sleep, or in the midst or your child's embarrassing public temper tantrum, give thanks that you are the mother to a miracle. Because, let me tell you, the other side of this, the side where you swear you would stay up for five days straight if you could
just hold your baby isn't so awesome either.
So in the midst of the flowers and cards and spa days tomorrow, while you are being pampered (as you should) take a moment to be grateful for what you have been given.
