Mother’s Days

My first Mother’s Day as a married woman was memorable. And not in a warm and fuzzy sort of way. I had been trying to get pregnant for about eight months. About a month or so earlier, we had gone through preliminary fertility testing and had been told that our chances of conceiving a child without major intervention were basically non-existent.

I sat through sacrament meeting teary, but holding it together. The closing prayer was said. Everyone was told to remain seated while the kids passed out treats (flowers? chocolate?) to all of the adult women. I probably freaked out the kid that handed me mine. I was sobbing uncontrollably. The pain of my childlessness was magnified to unbelievable proportions. I hadn’t gotten past the irrational shame associated with not being able to have kids, so most people didn’t even know that we had been trying. Which means that most people wouldn’t have a clue why I was blubbering in such an extreme way. I just wanted to leave–to go home, curl up in a ball, and sob. But I didn’t feel like I could because I had responsibilities. I had to go teach Primary. Yep. There I was, a drippy mess because of my sadness at not being able to have children, and I had to stay at church so I could go teach other people’s adorable little 4- and 5-year-olds. It was, to put it mildly, a difficult day.

I went through two more childless Mother’s Days, but at least I was prepared for the emotions that they would bring out in me.

My first Mother’s Day as a mom was a mixture of emotions. N~ was just a bit over three weeks old. My friends and family had gathered the day before to throw me a baby shower. I truly was a *new* mother. It should have been one of the most joyful days imaginable. That day, however, was overshadowed by family grief. You see, a couple of hours before my baby shower began, my grandmother (my mom’s mother) passed away after a prolonged illness. Five years later Mother’s Day, while a celebration, is also a reminder of great loss. So that day–my first Mother’s Day–was not the celebration that it might have been.

Yesterday was a wonderful celebration of motherhood in our family (well, except for a couple of my brother’s kids, whose mother decided she didn’t want to deal with them and basically kicked them out–some people just don’t deserve the title of mother). We headed up to Radiator Springs to Elaine’s new house (about 2/3 of the way there, Sean commented that he had thought that Elaine was just being snarky when she complained about living in the middle of nowhere, but that it seemed we were actually heading to the outskirts of nowhere).

We had crab legs, shrimp kabobs, hamburgers, hotdogs, corn, and asparagus. The kids caught tadpoles (there are now three more in our bowl at home) and shrieked over enormous spiders. And the day ended with tractor rides. It was childhood Mecca. We didn’t leave until it was bedtime for the boys, hoping to have a quiet two-hour ride home (yeah, right). It was a good day, and the boys look forward to visiting again soon.

Next time, we’ll bring clean clothes (no matter how cold it is!)

boys with buckets

N~, Tank Boy, and W~ doing the little boy thing


finding tadpoles

L~, A~, N~, and Tank Boy looking for tadpoles


C takes a dip

C~ took an unauthorized swim when we turned our backs for a second (shallow water, folks, no worries!)


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Filed under Daily Life, Kids, My Journey to Motherhood

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