So, it’s Mother’s Day and all week I have been thinking about what I would post on this day. It’s such a bittersweet day because it’s my very first year to celebrate being a mother, yet I am a childless mother. It’s crazy how a day like this, a day to celebrate, is yet another day to remind me that Hudson is not here. It’s a day that slaps me in the face telling me I am a childless mother. I know I am a mom and I know others know I am a mom, but I think this is the hardest kind of mom to be. A mom that lives everyday knowing that her child is gone and never coming back.
This week I thought about all of the other moms out there that have lost their children – the mothers of Natalie Holloway, Lacy Peterson, and all of the other women that have left this world the past few years. How is it different for me as a mom than it is for their mothers? It’s really not – they are probably feeling the same grief that I am. They are probably recalling past mother’s day presents or memories with their children, but I sit and think about what I don’t have and what I won’t have with Hudson. I have the memories of him growing inside my womb and my heart, but I don’t have memories of playing in the sand with him or helping him make a crafty project. I don’t have a school project that he made for me for mother’s day or anything – I only have the 200 days that he was in my womb and the pictures we took the day we “met” him.
It’s really hard to be positive on a day such as this when I am surrounded by friends and family with their children and their pregnancies. Some days are good and still there are bad days. A person can only keep a smile on their broken heart for so long. As happy and joyful as I am for everyone else while they celebrate with their children the more I want to crawl in a hole and sit there until the day is over. Of course I would never do such a thing – I don’t like dirt – but it’s a thought that has crossed my mind.
Once again I have been showered with support from family and friends with flowers and cards and it means the world to me that I am not forgotten and that Hudson is not forgotten. Me being a mother only makes Hudson’s memory and existence more real because you can’t have one without the other.