Let me start this blog post by making one thing clear, I love my mom. I love my mom more than anything. We may not always agree and we may have our spats, but I love my mom. My mom has had to up put with a lot from me. I have not always been the best daughter. I have done my own thing and unfortunately, sometimes it hurt her. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it did. And the amazing thing is, she still loved me. She still cared for me. She still helped me out of more pickles than I care to admit. Through the years she has been the one constant in my life. And I can never be more grateful to her. So, yes, I honored her this year and yes, I sent her a Mother’s Day present – because she deserved it.
But, I still hate Mother’s Day. For me, Mother’s Day is the hardest day of the year. Mother’s Day is the reminder of my heart’s desire that will never be fulfilled. Mother’s Day is a reminder that I can never escape the pain. Mother’s Day is a day that no matter what my husband does I end up in tears.
Losing my child was the hardest thing that has ever happened to me. The hours sitting in the Emergency Room waiting for the word of what I already knew. I knew my child was gone. I knew I would never hold my baby in my arms. The child I had always dreamed of. The child I dreamed would be growing up with my neice and nephew. The child that would sit at the Christmas tree and dream about presents under the tree as my husband read the Christmas story. The child that would sing in the children’s choir at church. The child that someday would accept Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior. All that vanished in the blink of an eye.
The only thing that has ever come close to that amount of pain was the day that I lost my grandmother. I remember my mother calling and asking to speak to my husband. I knew. He didn’t have to get off the phone, I knew. As soon as he rounded the corner from the kitchen, I fell to the ground and cried in the fetal position for hours. He just held me and let me cry. At the viewing, I couldn’t even go into the room. Hubs and my cousins had to comfort me. I don’t even want to venture to guess what will happen if anything ever happens to my mother.
Every year I think I can handle it. But the reality of the situation is I can’t. I can’t handle the thought of never being a mother. I can’t handle the thought of losing my child. I just can’t. At some point in the day, no matter what happens, I break down. I just come to a crumbling halt. Yesterday’s breakdown started when my husband and I were watching a sermon. The still and the quietness left time for hopes, dreams, and nightmares to come flooding back. After the sermon I was extremely quiet. Just walking around doing household chores trying to stay busy. But, when I finally sat down and my husband asked what was wrong, the flood gates opened.
Yesterday was horrible. A day I don’t want to remember.
Yesterday was horrible. A day I don’t want to remember. A day I just want to forget. What I don’t understand is why is Mother’s Day harder than others? The only thing I can come up with is because it is a loss of a dream and it is a day that is celebrated by everyone. You can’t go on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram without people posting pictures of their children and husbands wishing their wives a Happy Mother’s Day. And I get it, they want to honor the moms in their life. I get it. But that is not where the pain stops. In some churches you can’t escape sermons meant for good from being a knife jabbed in your heart over and over. And a sermon about motherhood makes perfect sense on Mother’s Day. But for someone who has struggled with infertility and loss for most of her adult life, stick that knife in further.
Mother’s Day is harder than other days and reminders of my baby. My husband and I get sad and stick together on the day our baby was born into heaven. We do the same thing on the day our baby was to be born into our arms. And we conquer those days together. I think the reason those days are easier is because besides our immediate family and our closest friends, very few reminders are out there. I can log onto Facebook and see other things, not a reminder of my loss. If it falls on a Sunday, the likelihood the pastor is speaking on motherhood is slim. But, Mother’s Day is hard because it is everywhere. I can’t escape it. No matter how hard I try. I do try to stay off Facebook, but those posts are still there on Monday. I will see them no matter how hard I try not to.
You may be asking why I am writing this blog. How is it even related to your weight loss journey? I am because I did yesterday what I have been striving for over a year and a half to avoid. I emotionally ate like you would not believe. I had more points in one day than I have had any one day on my journey. I ate and I did not care. I had to feed my emotions yesterday. And yes, that ice cream from Bruster’s made me feel better yesterday. That hamburger from Macado’s with fries yesterday made me feel better. I am not ashamed to say it.
You notice I said I had more points in one day than I have on this entire journey. The thing I did differently was this. I tracked those points. I tracked every bite I ate. And I am going to live with consequences next Saturday. But, I owned it. I owned what I put in my mouth. I owned those feelings I had yesterday. A year and a half ago, I wouldn’t have. I would have just kept on eating bad. Fell off one day, must be a lost cause. That is what I would have told myself a year and a half ago. But, today, I got up. While I am still down, I am not crying every second. I got back in the saddle and I am taking on the world today. Putting one foot in front of the other.
I will conquer my weight issues. I will conquer the feelings of inadequacy. I will conquer the feelings of embarrassment. But, I don’t think I will ever conquer Mother’s Day. I think it will be a day that I die every single year. And that is ok. It’s the fact that I get up and live the other 364 days of the year.