Driving in to work this morning, I was listening to one of my favorite public radio stations. For weeks they've been promoting buying flowers for Mothers' Day to help support the radio station; a portion of the costs go directly to fundraising.
I'm not sure what it was this morning, but as I listened to my favorite local radio hosts hawk their fundraising flowers, I had to switch the station over to another. They went on and on about mothers and how children should honor the mothers in their lives. I don't disagree - I'm blessed to have two incredible mothers of my own- one by blood and one by marriage- and a sister who's shown me that she is one tough mama. I am grateful for each one of my aunts. And I cherish my dear friends who are mothers themselves. You all set a high standard for me to rise to one day.
But there was something about the radio hosts this morning that left me reflective and sad, as they played testimonials of folks who've bought flowers in the past for this fundraiser, singing the praises of the mothers in their lives who stayed up late with the kids and did so much. "Buy flowers for the stay-at-home moms to brighten their day," they said (as if somehow being a SAHM was otherwise dreary and draining and not the rich experience I know it to be for many moms).
As I changed the station, I thought to myself, "What about all the women who want nothing more to be moms? What about all the women who, for whatever reason, will never be able to be Hallmark's definition of a mom this Sunday?"
What about all the infertile, the childless not by choice?
What about us?
I hold out hope for myself that somehow, someway, I will parent with my husband. But I know there are so many out there who can't parent, despite many emotionally and financially draining attempts. That once again this year for Mothers' Day, it's just not in the cards. Last year, I wasn't as phased by Mothers' Day; I was more about exploring what Motherhood means to people. This year, well - this year is different. And there was something about driving in to work and listening to their endless pitch for flowers that just struck me differently - and deeply - this year.
Yesterday at Advocacy Day in DC (recap post Monday), Risa Levine, RESOLVE's National Advocacy Co-Chair, delivered the keynote address in the morning to all the attendees. She spoke beautifully at the conclusion of her speech about the "elephant in the room" - Mothers' Day this Sunday - and encouraged us to raise a glass for the work we set out to do that day and for all the Wannabe Moms. Because we've all held onto our dreams and fantasies of being a mom one day, and those dreams are just as important.
So, I'm asking the rest of the Hallmark-card-sending-world to remember us on Sunday.
We may not have stayed up late when the kids wouldn't go to bed. But we've stayed up late worrying about our transfers the next morning. We've stayed up late wondering why the agency hasn't called. Stayed up late wondering "How on earth are we going to pay for this?"
We may not have endured 20 hours of labor and a natural birth. But we've endured countless hours in stirrups, endless rounds of needles and herbal treatments and painful surgeries. And years of silence and shame.
We may not have brought our child to work but we've sacrificed careers to stay in jobs we hate just to maintain specific health insurance coverage, however crappy that coverage might be - but it's better than paying 100% out of pocket.
We may not have sold Girl Scout cookies with our daughters or run Boy Scout canned good drives with our sons, but we buy boxes of Thin Mints and hand over soup and beans to yours every time you ask us to.
We may never have experienced all those incredible moments that define and shape Motherhood...
...and we'd give anything to, just once.
Remember us on Sunday.
