My fetus-free womb used to convulse at the mention of Mother’s Day. At my request, my Mister and I transformed the whole weekend into a celebration of infertility. A sushi banquet would be followed by a jetted hot tub and possible soft cheeses. But Sunday Morning my throat still tightened when they attempted to force a pitying carnation corsage into my fisted hands.
If you’ve held back similarly motivated tears or are struggling to complete your family in any way, perhaps you should read about Laurel.
Feed me fashionably fresh
I can relate. Several years of infertility while living in Utah were very difficult to bear. Similar to you, I was blessed to first adopt a daughter then bear a son. I now have 5 children (ages 6 and under), but still remember how painful Mother’s day could be. A friend recently suggested that we call it “Mothering Day” and I think that would be more appropriate, don’t you?
(PS: Pass along my thanks, again, to your mister for setting me up with my mister on our first date. We celebrate 10 years of marriage this summer).