Please don’t wish me a Happy Mother’s Day

Please don’t wish me a Happy Mother’s Day this year. The day is just around the corner, and I just do not want to deal with it. On that day, my mom will have been gone for nine months and eight days. And while I was not able to necessarily pick up the phone to call her and wish her a happy one for these past few years, the fact remains that she was still here. She was physically still in my realm. I could still send a card or flowers or plan a trip to go see her. And I am still trying to cope with the fact that can no longer happen.

I know she is gone. I accept she is gone. I cannot change that. And even though “she is in a better place,” I still don’t like it. I still want to be able to hold her hand or press my cheek into hers or wait for a spark of recognition and that shit-eating grin.

I just want my mom.

9 months and 8 days.

You know, that would be long enough to bring forth a viable life. Only I do not get to enjoy that privilege either. My body likes to grow all kinds of things in that general area, just not of the fetus type. And even if it did, my body wouldn’t be able to sustain it anyway.

Instead I get weird growths and bloat and pain. Oh, the pain. I am currently typing this while sitting on a boulder right now at a turning point on a favorite trail because all of that stuff I mentioned before is in a “flare” and pulling and hurting.

Andi no likey, but Andi is pushing through and enjoying some nature, dammit. Fuck you, growths and pain.

People say to me all the time, “Oh, you aren’t a mama in the traditional sense, but look at all the young ones you have raised and had an impact on!” 20 years of teaching and 30 years of childcare will give you that.

Yeah, that is fine and dandy. And I do have a great story to share at another time about that. And some years I am accepting of that. But not this year.

And then there are all of the pet mama people. *sigh* Yes, I am a pet mama. One of the three furry babies remains. And for some people, they are proud to just be a pet mama. They only want to be a pet mama. And that is absolutely fine for those people. More power to you! Again, other years that has sufficed. It doesn’t cut it this year.

Am I going to be a bitch to you if you utter those words to me? Of course not. I will likely smile, say thank you, and return the compliment. Especially if I do not know you and you do not know me and my situation. I always have felt it is presumptuous of people to assume that women of a certain age are mothers — even well before I knew that I would not be. But it happens and that is fine. I am guilty of doing the same.

I hope that all of you who still have your mothers can at least spend two minutes on the phone with her, or even better, have a chance to see her. At the very least, make sure she gets a card or a note.

And for those of you who are mothers, I do sincerely wish you a Happy Mother’s Day.

Just please don’t wish me a Happy Mother’s Day.

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