Today was agony. All I kept thinking was, "I want my mother. I want my baby." Over and over again. This was my first Mother's Day after losing Violet and since my mother was placed in a nursing home. I miss both of them every. single. day. And it never gets easier.
I'm a mother, but my arms are achingly empty.
I'm a daughter, but my mother doesn't know or remember me.
I remember the delirious joy of having a mother who loved me to distraction and of having a baby girl to hold and snuggle and love. I remember what it was like to, for a short period of time, have everything I'd ever wanted when growing up. And I am sharply aware, every day, of what it feels like to lose it, all the while watching everyone around me live out their dreams with little-to-no trouble or effort.
My husband and I are trying to conceive again, and it's been an incredibly difficult time for us. Hubby and I are both struggling with the entire journey.
So today I wallowed. I ate peanut butter chocolate ice cream and potato salad out of the container. I finished the first season of "Bob's Burgers" on Netflix, caught up on my Mary Higgins Clark book, and did my nails. Hubs painted my toenails. I drank Mountain Dew and played with the label maker that hubs bought me as a non-Mother's Day present (does he know me, or WHAT?!). And I took more internet-cheapy pregnancy tests than should be humanly allowable. At $0.69 a piece, they're an affordable guilty pleasure that allows me hours of forehead-wrinkling, squinting-into-the-natural-light-while-examining-a-tiny-slip-of-paper-for-ANY-sign-of-a-line-at-ALL fun.
It was an intensely sad day for me and a deeply discouraging one. But I will persevere. I promise.
"8 We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair;9 Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;" -2 Corinthians 4:8-9