Heavy Hearted

My heart is so heavy today and my anxiety is in full swing.

I am just NOT looking forward to tomorrow.  At. All.

We’re not going to church.  We stopped going to church on Mother’s Day years ago.  I just can’t handle it.

I want to be one of those women that stands up to be recognized for being ‘Mommy’ not one of the ones that sits in the pew and claps.

I want to be one of those ‘Mommy’s’ that gets a flower for bringing a new life into this world.

I want to be one of those ‘Mommy’s-to-be’ that has the huge baby bump that you can’t miss.

But I’m not and I just can’t deal with it all.

So, I think we’re going to go to my mom’s house and make brunch and celebrate her.  And later on go to my inlaws and visit with my Mother-in-Law and the rest of the fam.

Other than that though, we’re going to ignore the day. 

Not going to give any recognition to what we don’t have because it will just rip our heart in two.

Just thinking about it I want to cry.

I will try to put a smile on my face tomorrow but inside I’ll be crying out and avoiding eye contact with those of you out in the world that have little bundles that make you ‘Mommy’.  Maybe the next day I’ll be able to look you in the eye again but tomorrow, if you see someone walking with her eyes on the ground, it’s probably me.  I’ll just be trying to keep my composure so please forgive me for not giving you the time of day.

Today my Honey brought me something home for Mother’s Day though.  He wanted to put a smile on my face.  He told me it was from him and Chewy {and Milo} because I’m a good Mommy to my fur-kids.


While he doesn’t express it in quite the same way that I do, I think it really hurts my Honey’s heart, too, that we don’t have any kids to call us ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’.

You would think that this infertility thing would get easier as the years go by and we learn to deal with our situation but no, it doesn’t.  It only gets harder and more difficult.  Especially when we see no light at the end of a very, very long and dark tunnel!

I was recently talking with a woman.  I didn’t ask any questions that would tell this person that I wanted to hear her life story but she proceeded to tell me that she’d had five kids that had all been taken away by CPS.  She’d also had two abortions in the past few years, one of which had been twins.  I can’t even tell you how quickly I tried to get out of that conversation.  She’s lucky I didn’t burst into tears right then and there.  I am not equipt to handle these kinds of life stories.  If you want to rip me to pieces tell me what this woman told me.  For an infertile this was the worst possible thing she could’ve told me.  It is not FAIR that women like this are able to reproduce and I, a woman that is ready, willing and able to care for children, can’t because she’s got a body that doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do.

It crushed me into a million little pieces.

Then there are those pregnancy announcements and birth announcements that are constant.  With Facebook, especially, but with Twitter and blogs and all the other social networking out there, I just can’t get away from it all.  Today there was a birth announcement for someone that I am not close with.  At.  All.  We are not friends.  I would be ok if I never saw this person again.  Maybe it’s the green monster coming out, but I just can’t be happy for her or them.  That probably makes me a horrible person.

Moving on because this is getting long.

Earlier today I was perusing the interwebs and I came upon a couple of things I want to share.

This is everything I’ve said before and want to say now.  She expresses everything I’ve tried to put into words but never seem to do very eloquently.

I liked the way that this author expresses the same thing, but in a poetic way.  If I could write poetry, I would like to be able to write something like this:

Infertility Poem for Mothers Day

I am afraid
To plant this seed.
The sun is warm,
The earth is rich and ready,
But the days go by,
And still no planting.
Why?
The springtime of my life
Is passing, too.
And ten years’ planting
In a willing soil
Have borne no living fruit.
So many times I’ve waited,
Hoped,
Believed,
That God and nature
Would perform
A miracle
Incredible but common.
Nothing grew.
And often times I feel
The mystery of life and growth
Is known to all but me,
Or that reality
Is not as it appears to be.
I have a choice:
To put aside this seed,
Leaving the planting
To the proven growers,
Pretending not to care
For gardening,
And knowing
If I do not try
Or plant,
And risk again
The well known pain
Of watching
For the first brave green
And seeing only
Barren ground.
He also spoke
About a seed,
The mustard’s tiny grain,
Almost too small to see,
But, oh – the possibilities!
Those who doubt,
Who fear,
Are not inclined to cultivate it.
But it was to them He spoke.
And God remembered Sarah…
Rachel…
Hannah…
Elizabeth…
The seed is in my hand,
The trowel in the other;
I am going to the garden
And the Gardener,
Once more.
Author: Margaret Munk

Last but not least, this song by the Dixie Chicks.




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