Mother’s Day has been weighing heavily on my heart.
I knew it would be a difficult couple of months for us. May and June are filled with anniversaries (is that what you call them even if they’re not joyous?). 1 year marks of things that happened which at the time were filled with joy.
First doctor’s visit to confirm what multiple at home tests had already told us but that we, me in particular, were reluctant to believe so readily. First OB appointment and ultrasound, the only picture of our baby. First time hearing those swooshy heartbeats.
All the good and happy firsts turned into only’s and last’s. The only ultrasound, the last ultrasound, the only time we heard those swooshy heartbeats, the last time we heard those swooshy heartbeats.
Last Mother’s Day I was pregnant envisioning the following year, celebrating Mother’s with a nearly 1 year old baby. Last Mother’s Day hubby got me a sweet little bracelet with a charm “I love you to the Moon and back.” I think that message was for me and baby. I haven’t worn it in a long time, because what does it mean to be a mother without a baby, without a child present? Where is my place, our place as grieving mothers, loss mothers on this holiday?
Where is my place as a woman who carried life within her body, who had another heart beat inside herself, if only for a short period of time, and now has nothing to show for it, but memories and grief.
This year, I learned of International Bereaved Mother’s Day which was on May 7th. I didn’t know of this prior, because, I didn’t have a reason for it. So, now I’m part of this club. Bereaved mothers, mothers of loss get their own day. It is nice in a way to have a day to be acknowledged as a mother, particularly when you are caught in this back and forth battle in your mind and heart of what that means. On the other hand, it is a whole separate day for you, because you are different than any other “normal” mother, because you have lost something, because maybe you’re a little bit broken. At least that’s how I feel.
I don’t know that I want a different day, I just want Mother’s Day. I want to be acknowledged as a mom, because that’s what I am. Maybe my child wasn’t here very long, and my child wasn’t visible to you, but my baby existed. My baby was here however brief. And even in that ever so brief time, our baby rocked our world and changed our lives, forever. So while it’s nice to have a day where you can support other bereaved mothers and join in community with them. For me, and perhaps for other mother’s as well, it’d also be nice to be acknowledge the same as every other mother, on the same day as everyone, Mother’s Day. Because that is who we are.