Life Without Baby

Filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Getting Over Mother’s Day May 10, 2011

On Monday, I had lunch with a friend. “We had so much fun yesterday,” she said. “We had the whole family over at my mom’s and we all brought food and ate way too much.”

“That’s great,” I said, understanding that “whole family” would mean siblings, their families, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. “What was the occasion?”

My friend stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Um, Mother’s Day?” she said.

“Oh right! Of course!”

Luckily, this is a friend who knows where my head is and also reads this blog, so knows about my breaking up with Mother’s Day. Well, apparently, I succeeded in not only breaking up with Mother’s Day, but getting over it and forgetting about it!! How fickle I am.

I’ll admit, that on Sunday morning, I unwittingly hopped on Facebook and very quickly hopped back off again! Way too many Mother’s Day posts for me and I thought why torture myself? I checked in on the blog comments and the forums to see what was going on there, but other than that, I didn’t give much thought to Mother’s Day at all.

What about you? How did you do this year?

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10 Responses to “Getting Over Mother’s Day”

  1. Kate B Says:

    I usually lay low on Mother’s Day, but needed to run some errands. I was definitely dreading the possibility of being wished a Happy Mother’s Day at the stores. I went to 4 stores and not once was I wished a Happy Mother’s Day! I was so relieved.

  2. Gwen Says:

    I did okay, even going to a local yarn and fiber festival on the day itself, but I think I’m experiencing the aftermath of having done okay – I spend so much time marveling at how well I’m handling things that I don’t really give myself time to not handle things well until a day or two later.

  3. Valerie Says:

    For me on Mother’s Day, I feel like I have to put on a front, to be happy for my mom. And I mean… I am happy for her. But the one year I said I couldn’t emotionally handle mother’s day the message was sent (from other family members) that that was unacceptable. So I don’t feel like I really can break up with it. It was hard this year (as always), especially since the day before mother’s day, I hosted a baby shower, believe it or not. But its over… phew! Until Father’s Day. Which is a little less hard, but still a celebration of a normalcy I’m not a part of.

  4. Kathryn Says:

    Met some other childless friends for lunch and a movie. The other wife and i were both given carnations, but beyond that, it was fine.

    I’d already sent my mother a card. We gave hubby’s mama a card & are going to take her to dinner tonight.

    I avoided FB like the plague.

    Yesterday we did see the mama of the children we mentor. To be nice i asked how her MD was. She went on and on and on about how MD “rocks” and her kids treat her so nice. I said, “We avoid church for both MD and FD.” And she informed me of what a wonderful message was given and again said, “MD is the best EVER!”

    “Well, if you’re a mother.”

    Her friend got what i was saying, but it went right over her head. Sigh.

  5. IrisD Says:

    We did what we always do, got together at my brother’s house. I buy a little something for my mom, my aunt, my sister-in-law, her mom, aunt, and cousin’s wife, who will all be present for dinner that day. My aunt does not have children, but is always treated like a mom that day and so has always received a gift from my brother and from me. She has never expressed any sadness to me about not being a mom, nor did my other aunt who passed away two years ago and did not have children, but who also celebrated Mother’s Day with us. Other than the fact that it is Mother’s Day and the mother’s get gifts, it doesn’t seem any different than any other family gathering. There is no mushy talk about mothers… no conversations geared toward motherhood. We talked about food, music, exercise, art, etc. This year my sister in law’s sister was visiting and she also doesn’t have children, so there were three non-mom’s at the get-together. I did log on to facebook though… lots of messages from kids telling their moms they were the best ever. Those are sweet… I think what really turns me off though are the posts by people themselves about “how motherhood is the best job in the world”, or the “number one mother awards” posted by other women to their mother friends… I can’t exactly put into words what bothers me about those… maybe that I feel they are boastful, insensitive?? And I don’t just feel that way about the “motherhood” ones, I have a friend who posted an “If you have the best husband… put this as your status”, and i just thought, well what if you have friends who are recently divorced, or just lost a spouse, or ended a longterm relationship, or do not have a partner and perhaps are feeling lonely?… One of my facebook friends did however post something I think we can all appreciate, it was a thank you to all the women, the mothers, teachers, aunts, neighbors, grandmothers, friends who have played a role in nurturing a child, and stated “it takes a village.” She was the only person on facebook I wished a Happy Mother’s Day. In past years I’ve made phone calls to friends to wish them a happy mother’s day. I didn’t this year.

  6. Janice Says:

    I had hopped on FB without thinking it would bother me and then I saw “For Mother’s Day, I just found out I am going to be a Mother” I liked it and then cried for a bit and then decided to write the following letter. I posted it on my blog, but took it down because I was too embarrassed and my blog is about art. So, I am sharing it with others that I know will understand.

    Childless Mother’s Letter to My Daughter

    I was going to call you Emily or Sophia, which interestingly enough are the names of my boyfriend’s nieces. Sophia also being the name of a great, great aunt and great, great, great grandmother who was a Mennonite and married a well known Mennonite preacher. All of this unbeknownst to me at the time I named you, for that was so long ago.

    I have met you in glimpses and shadows over the years. I felt you the day I held my landlady’s baby girl Shannon when I was just 18 years old. She tugged on my locket as I held her in my arms. I didn’t mind. It felt lovely holding you. You were with me the day Shannon called out to me at the top of the stairs “Danice, come play with me” as I was doing my homework in the basement of the townhouse I lived in with this young family, while I was in college in Toronto studying graphics.

    You were with me years later at the age of 43 when my now deceased kitty, Baby, looked up at me with those cute little dilated eyes (FeLV kitty), that demanded “play with me” as I struggled with, yet another deadline, sitting at my laptop as a freelance graphic designer.

    You were standing beside me silently in the shadows at 35 when I was hiding in the bathroom with my little friend, Morgan, as we played an imaginary game, whispering to each other and giggling. (I think we were hiding from her brother.)

    I knew you were there in my heart every time I looked at a child, saw an advertisement or image of a mother and child, or shopped for my nieces Christmas gifts.

    All those silly stuffed monkeys and gorillas that friends and former husband had given me over the years still remain as a reminder that I was saving them for you. Even the downy soft stuffed ducky, that I originally bought for my little niece Anne, but took back at the last moment for you, still remain in the storage room of my house. I couldn’t seem to part with it, because I wanted you to have it. And of course all the college books, I couldn’t get rid of because I thought they might help you one day, are still lining the bookshelves along with my art books.

    I wanted to teach you how to swim and be there for you each step of your growth. I thought I would get an extension of my bicycle and teach you to ride, then we could ride together when you were old enough–maybe on the Venice Boardwalk. Maybe somewhere else.

    I started baking and cooking more so that I could be close to you and be a good mom. Giving you the kind of close moments I had with my mom.

    I remember bringing home a little plaid dress that someone from Disney gave me after a photoshoot. I kept it hanging on the bedroom door for three years thinking about how you might look in it. I saved you all the toys and children’s book samples that were given to me over the years from my various graphics jobs and assignments. I even had a checkers game that I carted around with me though I have no idea where I had got it from.

    I often wondered what you would have been like as you grew. I wanted to make sure you were loved, encouraged and cared for as I felt terrified that I just wouldn’t be good enough and that the cycle of abuse would raise it’s ugly head and confuse me. For that is one reason you remain unformed, and for that I am truly sorry. For I loved you and didn’t want anyone to hurt you especially me.

    But there in the shadows, the parts of me I hold deep, you will always remain, forever unspoiled and devinely perfect my dear Emily Sophia Hagey.

  7. loribeth Says:

    My normal practice on MDay is to hide out in a dark movie theatre. But I couldn’t find any movies close by that I particularly wanted to see — so we spent a lazy day at home, venturing out just once to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard. Which was fine with me. : )

  8. Rach Says:

    i spent the day in bed – so it went just as i had planned 🙂

  9. Mandy Says:

    I spent it thinking I was pregnant and when I found out this past Friday that I wasn’t, I was cruashed!! I want to ask God why, but I know there is a reason for Him bringing me through all of this and I don’t know why yet! I was the good daughter and daughter in law: I went to early chirch with my mother in law and regular church with my mom. Suprisingly both preachers brought up women who couldn’t have children, I had put on a front for everybody until that was brought up and then I just wanted to cry like a baby! Life goes on and so must I


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