![]() I cannot have people second guessing what they just said to me and looking at me like I’m a nuclear bomb just about to explode. I cannot be looked at with mournful eyes. Whoa Karlee, stop right there, now you’re talking crazy. Don’t feel obligated to be in desolation for other’s sake. Grab a coffee and spend hours in the Book Bin.ĭon’t go to Church. Listen to me dear, take care of yourself. Eat that food that is not on your diet plan. Call your people, and tell them that you love them. You don’t need to read that, you don’t need to post anything, you don’t need to like anyone’s post, and you don’t even have to acknowledge the moms in your life there. Put it under lock and key if you have to, do not go into that dangerous space that has no place in our hurting hearts. Put down your phone and slowly back away. How to Survive Mother’s Day for the Childlessĭon’t go on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter. I matter.Īnd this, being our third Mother’s Day after deciding to TTC*, I wanted to share with you what has helped me get through this difficult day. What I can do is tell you: What you do is valuable. I have no magic word, no incantation or essential oil that can fix this. This is grief at the most biological level. I have built-in fears that are there for me to protect a toddler from danger. ![]() I am reminded, in pain, every month that I am and continue to be, childless. I have parts that are meant to feed and are now… just cosmetic. My thighs hold extra fat as a storage for bearing life. Yet, here we are.Īnd it’s not just externally ingrained. How many times did I do the math telling me the age I would be when my kids graduated if …? My husband and I have had countless talks about when our kids will be allowed to date, how will we handle puberty, and who will hand out the discipline. I was told that the greatest joy in life was to grow up, get married, and start a family. I grew up with plastic baby dolls that I fed with fake bottles and strolled around the neighborhood with flimsy pink plastic strollers. It has been ingrained in us that what matters most of all in life is children. I wish that we could get together and feel normal together. I wish I could literally grab you up in my arms and hug you. I wish I could stop all those comments on Facebook, I wish I could make your Instagram feed comforting. We can’t control the world, THAT much has been made perfectly clear in our lives. The one that knows this struggle all too well. The one out there that has stumbled upon this post desperately searching for strength and needing to feel affirmed. They all played an integral role in my upbring. Some are mothers of their own, some struggle with my same story, but all of them I consider mine. I also grew up with five strong, beautiful, and maternal Aunts. She is why I can stand here today and say: Today sucks. I grew up with a wonderful Mother, one who always cared deeply about my true feelings and gave me the belief that how I felt mattered. You are cherished and brave and you deserve this. ![]() For all the mothers out there, I don’t want you to read this and think you can’t dote on your children and celebrate whole-heartedly on this day. Nobody wants to feel alone.īut, before I go on, I must say this. Nobody wants to be reminded of empty arms and quiet homes. Can I get a witness? Even when you’re completely and insanely happy, for the childless, this day is polarizing. There is no way around this one, Mother’s Day is hard. I weave in and out of deep sorrow and bravery. However, every Mother’s Day I am kind of pitiful. I so desperately don’t want to be pitied. Do you do this too? When you see the post on Facebook that says “Blessed mamma” or “God trusted me with…” or “I get to do the most important job in the world” do you actually hear “You’re not blessed” or “God doesn’t trust you with…” or “Your life/purpose doesn’t matter?” ![]()
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