I was going to write a somewhat Anti-Mothers-Day post today.
After all, I'm not a mother. I've never been a mother on Mothers Day. Yes, I may currently be pregnant, but it doesn't feel real. Not this early. Not yet. I know what can go horribly wrong, and I know it can happen to me.
So I'm NOT celebrating this Mothers Day as a mother. I will celebrate it as a daughter and a daughter-in-law and a granddaughter and a granddaughter-in-law.
But not as a mother.
This morning, after waking up at 6:15 a.m. and being unable to fall back asleep, I spent some time perusing my favorite TTC/Pregnancy forums. In an attempt to respond to someone's question, I pulled up my post on my first ultrasound from last time I was pregnant.
As it happens sometimes, I spent the next 30 minutes re-reading my blog posts from that time period. One after another. The good, then the bad, and the definitely ugly.
Not quite how I envisioned spending this morning.
I didn't cry, though. But it was a sobering experience. It left me feeling just here. And that's all.
Soon after, Buster woke up. Buster is typically super cranky every morning. He gets easily annoyed by my "pep" in the mornings, so I have to be careful not to "talk too much" prior to 10 a.m.
He will wake up, make his coffee, smoke his morning cigarette, then settle in to catch up on the news and the blogs he follows. All the while ignoring me in the process (which I've come to accept!).
This morning, however, he came into the office and kissed me on the forehead. This is a rare occurrence. Super rare. Like spotting an endangered species in the wild.
He then said,
"Happy Mothers Day, baby."
Cue my tears.
I'm still refusing to celebrate Mothers Day as a mother, but I'm happy to let him celebrate for me.