This is only the second year (I was pregnant last May) that Mother’s Day is a holiday full of joy and celebration for me. Vividly — very vividly — I remember dreading it. I remember standing in church with my eyes fixed on a plant, throat burning, blinking back tears. 1/6

Everyone could get pregnant but me, it seemed. On ACCIDENT, even. It felt so desperately unfair. The one thing I’d ever wanted was the one thing just out of grasp. It was a constant, gaping wound that bled especially hard on Mother’s Day. 2/6

I was a Mama without a baby, and I yearned for him more than any words are capable of describing. If you’re there — if you’re in it right now — you know. I’m so desperately sorry that you know. I want to hug you so hard your ribs ache instead of your heart. 3/6

In retrospect, I can now tell myself that the right baby found me at the right time. I was meant to have Connor. This egg, this sperm, at this exact moment, to create THIS child. Not any of the other months where I sobbed over a negative pregnancy test. 4/6

But I know, easy for me to say, now that the baby is in my arms. You’re not there yet. Today still fucking sucks.

Until the right child finds you — naturally, through IUI or IVF, embryo donation, adoption, the foster system — this day is going to hurt like hell. 5/6

And while it does, I grieve with you. If I was there I’d hold your hand while you stare at that plant and try desperately not to cry in public.

Do let it out though. Sometimes sobbing helps.

I pray so hard this is your last Mother’s Day feeling like this. Hang in there. 6/6