Sunday, May 13, 2012

Sometimes I Feel Like a Childless Mother

I'm blessed to have many friends I've never met. I know them from a forum for Christians dealing with infertility. Many have gone on and finally had children, but many others are like me: stuck in a rut, still part of a couple and not a family. Yet whether we have children or not, we all seem to hate Mothers Day.

I stay home from church, and I know I'm not alone in this. For me, I'm mostly at a place of peace with my childlessness, but I know better than to put myself in situations where that peace can be tested. Mothers Day is my ultimate tester. Fathers Day sucks too--I get all guilty and feel bad for Chris, who probably doesn't feel any hurt at all. I guess someone has to hurt.

For years I've tried to work out anti-motherly things to do on Mothers Day. I have not once succeeded, and end up staying at home with a Chipotle burrito bowl and a gluten-free beer. Everything seems to be infiltrated by motherliness: I can't go out to breakfast because mothers are going out to breakfast. I can't go to the Dallas Arboretum because they've invited mothers. I can't go get ice cream because mothers will be there (oh, and I can't eat dairy). I can't go to my favorite sculpture museum because it has a nice cafe where mothers will be. Frankly, I don't even know if the local wine bar is safe! I realize that I may sound pretty neurotic to those of you who have never experienced infertility, but even after nearly eight years of being off birth control I'm still trying to escape the inescapable. My infertile friends get it. (Holla!)

I know more commercial enterprises are trying to be inclusive and throw in the "mother" who's "baby" has four feet and a boatload of fur. But something about inclusiveness bugs me. I have six furbabies and guess what? I'm still not a mom. There's also "To everyone who is a mom or has a mom." That bugs me too. I'm still an outsider.

I like not having kids and I intend to stay this way. The sharp knives are in reach, the plugs don't have covers, and I don't have to put ugly foam bumpers on all the furniture's sharp corners. And yet I still have names picked out for kids, ideas of where they'd go to school, a spare room, etc. I wonder if I'll ever get over that.

Anyway, many happy wishes to my infertile friends as you come up with new ways to be antisocial on this day. And to those of you who are pregnant or parenting without problems, know you've missed a world of hurt.

1 comment:

LSB said...

I know it's small consolation, but I love you.