Weeping Willow, Claude Monet

The following reflection was written by Willow. 

I celebrated Mother’s Day for the first time as a mother this year. For 32 years, I had only known this holiday as a time to honor my own mother. When I think back on the Mother’s Days
of my childhood, I remember cheesy Sunday School crafts, carnation corsages, and fancy brunch at the Embassy Suites after church. As I got older, it became a more meaningful holiday because my mom and I are very close. I liked to pick out small but special gifts for her and spend the day doing her favorite things. It was an uncomplicated holiday. I have a mother who loves me and I love her.

I had no idea how privileged I was.

When I was in the early stages of infertility, it didn’t immediately occur to me to that Mother’s Day was an extra-special-sad-day for people like me. I’d only ever experienced this day as a daughter celebrating her mother.  So when a friend handed me a card and a knowing hug at church that day, I remember thinking, “Oh yeah, this is another thing to be sad about. I’m not a mother on any day, but here I am, also not a mother on Mother’s Day.”

My social worker friend Francie says that one of the hardest things to grieve in life is the loss of something you never had. In many ways, infertility is such an ambiguous grief. You grieve for a child that doesn’t exist. You can’t see his face or hear her voice. On Mother’s Day, you grieve the loss of something you don’t have – the experience of being a mother.  It’s not easy to explain this grief, and most people don’t even realize the everyday events and activities that can trigger the grief of those suffering from infertility. I certainly didn’t until it was me.

Mother’s Day is complicated and painful for so many people. It was a privilege and a gift to grow up celebrating this day without emotional baggage. I know that now. But if you haven’t experienced infertility or don’t have any close friends who have, it’s easy to take that privilege for granted. That’s why just simply having an awareness and a sensitivity of the potential suffering of those around us is so powerful. It’s such an important first step in caring for our loved ones who are grieving.

I have been a mother for 9 months. But my son’s story did not begin 9 months ago. He has had several mothers in his life, and we plan to honor their part in his story. On Mother’s Day, we will be thinking about Ms. An, our son’s birthmother. We don’t know much about her, but we will send her love and talk about what she might be like. We will also think about Insook, his foster mother. Insook provided our son with a loving and caring home for almost a year before he became part of our family. We are forever grateful to these two women. Our son will always know what an important role they played in his life.

I got to be celebrated as a mom on Mother’s Day this year. I got the flowers, the special meal, the extra kisses from my son. So many women did not. The silence and emptiness of their homes will have been especially noticed on that day. No words can ease the pain. If you know this pain, please give yourself permission to feel whatever emotion you are feeling on that day, or any day. You are not alone, and your story matters.