It’s that time of year again, where everywhere you turn there are reminders (usually in pink) that Mother’s Day is soon upon us.
And I have a lot to celebrate—a fantastic mom, a terrific mother-in-law, two wonderful three-year-olds. But the people I can’t celebrate with are never far from my mind.
I have been thinking about Sam and Emilie more than usual lately. While spending time with friends and feeling thankful for the job of motherhood, watching my living children running across the playground. While chatting with another mother whose loss is more recent, reflecting on what it took for me to earn those motherhood duties.
Mother’s Day was hard when the world didn’t consider me a mother, and it’s hard now when the world considers me a mother of two. The fact that I’m a mother of four will always make the holiday bittersweet.
And if you’ve ever wondered why I’m so quick to blab about our reproductive struggles, here’s a more eloquent reason why than I could ever create (via a little pregnant, and made for National Infertility Awareness Week):
This? This is so spot-on that I’ve cried every time I watch the video. The loss of Sam and Emilie was by far the worst experience of my life, so much so that it often overshadows our other losses and infertility. But all of that stuff really sucked, too. The drugs sucked, the lack of insurance coverage sucked, the hopelessness and waiting and resentment sucked. Infertility can be a lonely and isolating condition, and if sharing my experiences can help make even one person feel less alone, then I will continue to blab and blab and blab.