"Happy" Mother's Day

It is my first Mother’s Day today and I have never needed my mother so much. My mother tried hard to be here even before I knew I wanted her to be, but she couldn’t. She’s far away. So instead I am alone. I sit here on the bathroom floor alone. I cry in my first Mother’s Day. It is week 15 of pregnancy and week 9 of the 24/7 stomach flu. Just when it’s supposed to be going away, week 9 turns out to be the worst week yet. I have cried more this week than I have the whole pregnancy. So far, I have been mostly courageous, patient, and stoic. This week even getting out of bed is overwhelming enough to elicit tears of despair. I cannot get enough sleep. I cannot eat. I am now eating only a quarter or less than the usual amount of food in my diet. I have lost 2-3 pounds this week alone. I am worried about my baby, but have no real reason to go to the doctor. No real answers or hope of my situation changing. I am worried about my sanity. And right now when I need help the most, I am alone.

My poor husband is at the end of his rope with my constant stomach emergencies. As seen in my writing, it is all about me. I don’t know how to change that. I live in a constant state of survival. I am trying so hard, but this week especially I cannot meet his needs and need him to meet too many of mine. There is no one else to support me and he is doing it alone. He is beginning to resent that and I understand. But I am alone. My mother has done her best to encourage me from afar and to try to come to me. But she is not here. She cannot shield me from things nor can she hold me while I cry. I am alone. My mother-in-law has made it repeatedly clear this week that she resents the work and money my presence has thrust upon her and cannot get past her own resentment to see my struggle. I cannot be the perfect daughter-in-law, though I have tried so hard. For a year of living with them, I have tried. I cannot keep my space clean when I cannot even eat. She is not there. I tried to share shopping for a crib with her and she blows me off. I tried to share buying a crib with her; desperately needed someone to celebrate buying a crib with me. She doesn’t care. She didn’t even want to see it. I tried to tell her my agony this morning. She looks at me and asks, “are you sick or just pregnancy sick?” Just? Do you have any idea what 9 weeks of the stomach flu are like? No, she doesn’t actually. She was never stomach sick with her kids. I start to crack and tell her politely that I am so tired of being sick. I’m sure she can see the despair in my eyes. She flippantly tells me to get some rest and walks away. No sympathy there. Who is left? I am alone. My God who loves me and cares for me is there. But right now honestly, I want someone in the flesh. I want someone to be a mother for me on this Mother’s Day when it is too much to face alone being one myself.

So here I sit on the bathroom floor at 7:00 in the morning. I am supposed to be at church singing of love, faith, and the goodness of God. Yet, I cannot even steal myself to leave this warm, safe bathroom. I am supposed to be in bed “getting some rest” and cuddling with my husband. Yet, I cannot stop or hide my tears and I dare not wake him up for fear of seeing that resentment in his eyes. If I can’t sleep, I should at least be getting the house ready for Mother’s Day dinner to make up for not going to church today. After all, I’m sure my mother-in-law has already added this morning to her lists of resentments. But there is something so cold and big and alone about downstairs. I cannot face it. So I sit in my tiny warm bathroom, which feels safe and oddly comforting. Maybe it’s the amount of time the toilet and I have spent together lately. I am surrounded by tissues and feeling quite sorry for myself. Yet, I cannot feel guilty. I am mourning. I am mourning my loss of a mother. I am grown. I now have to face my nightmare alone. And that is reason enough to cry.

What would have changed today? Rejoicing. God just blessed me with a gorgeous baby crib for next to nothing. It is a huge mile marker. Celebrations quickly turn sour when there is no one else to celebrate with.

A card. Yes, I know I do not have a baby in my arms, but I am sacrificing enough for a child to be considered a mother. This is my first Mother’s Day. My mother has tried to send a card. Thank you, Mom. Of course, my mother-in-law has not even considered myself or my sister-in-law with her new baby as things to be celebrated on Mother’s Day. My husband in true manly fashion honestly has no idea. He will be wonderful next year, but he has no idea of my need now. And I would rather not receive something from him than to ask yet another thing of him. So I expect nothing.

Some sympathy. Just because I’ve felt sick for 9 weeks, does not mean I am used to it. It does not mean that I do not have especially bad days. It does not mean that I do not need a hug or even a heartfelt “I’m sorry.” Just because I receive this comfort from strangers and acquaintances does not mean that that is enough. I cannot do this myself. I need help and support and love.

So am I writing this to gain yet more sympathy from strangers and friends who read this? No. That is the last thing I need. It is mortifying for me to put such a selfish piece onto a public blog. I'd rather hide in my warm bathroom and pity myself. But we need truth. The mothers who feel forgotten, my mother who I never thanked enough, they need you to know this. The young mothers who are struggling with the hardships of pregnancy, they need support and love. The family members of these moms who don’t understand, they need to understand and they need to love. And the young moms like me who are so ready to give up, you need to know you are not alone. And it is worth it. Do I really believe that this morning? No. Is it normal to not believe that? Yes. What I want to do this morning is to stop fighting, stop eating, just throw up and stay in bed. Just give up, get so sick that either the hospital will take care of me and I can get rest or I lose this baby and I’m done. Sound over dramatic? No, I actually had these thoughts. Yet, even this morning, every part of my being screams that it is worth it. I cannot give up. I must keep fighting for every meal to stay down for my baby. I must keep working to make the money that will support my baby. I must keep fighting for my marriage so that my baby has a good strong home.

After years of never quite understanding why we celebrate Mother’s Day, I now understand. I also understand that it cannot and will not ever be celebrated enough. Mothers will always be under appreciated, always be alone, but it is their refusal to give up that makes Mother’s Day worth celebrating. Maybe this won’t be my last Mother’s Day that I will celebrate alone on the bathroom floor with tears, but even today I will celebrate the gift of motherhood and Mother’s Day that God has given to me.