Mother’s Day

I’ve been thinking about Mother’s Day. To me, it represents all the same stuff as most infertiles – the day to honor our mothers, and the day we’re jealous of mothers… But it also represents the day I started wanting to be a mother. I remember it like it was yesterday, although it was a completely different life.

It was Mother’s Day 2002. I got married to my first husband in August 2001. I always knew that I shouldn’t have married my husband, I was even very upset on our wedding day. I don’t know how to explain it – it just happened. But I wanted to make it work. I was a complete workaholic, and I really liked my job and my company. And he was nice and supportive, so I figured it would work forever. It probably would have if things wouldn’t have turned out so bad in other areas of our life. Our plan was to get married, wait a few years, and then have kids. Sounds good, right? Well in March 2002 my company started to fall apart. It was a huge company, and it was indicted (later overturned) and ended up collapsing. During this uncertainty with my employment, I started to question whether I wanted to put all my energies into my job and career. Up until then I defined myself completely by my job, or my education before that, and I started to think there was something else in my life that I should be focusing on instead of my job. Suddenly I realized that just because I was always there for my employer, it would not always be there for me, and maybe I needed to focus on what I wanted out of my life. These are the thoughts that started whirling around in my head that spring. And then it was Mother’s Day.

I remember it so clearly – I was at home alone all day, and I spent the day calling all the mothers I knew, and wishing them a Happy Mother’s Day. It was actually a really nice day, talking to a lot of people in my life. And for the first time in my life, I started thinking it was the right time to be a mother. I’ve always known that I wanted to do that in the future, but it became the time – I really wanted to be a mother. My husband (at the time) came home that evening, and I just looked at him and said, “I want to be a mother – I want a baby.” And to my surprise, he said, “OK.” So we started trying right away. And it didn’t work out very well. We weren’t successful, and it broke me. This started a depression that almost took over me completely.

A little over a year after that Mother’s Day, after months of trying and not succeeding, after a cervical cancer scare, after crying hysterically while visiting my best friend in the hospital when she had her first child, after losing that best friend as a friend at all, after losing my job as the company collapsed, after supporting my husband when he lost his job, I hit rock bottom and ended up in a hospital for about a week to treat my depression. Yes, I was in the mental ward of a hospital with all the crazies, addicts and super-depressed. I got on some good meds, found a good therapist, took a couple months off work (went on disability), and worked on myself. I realized that I couldn’t stay in a marriage where I felt trapped; I had to get out, and focus on myself. I got better, and I went back to work, and I filed for a divorce. But I still didn’t know who I was – I wanted a label.

That’s always been the problem – I’ve always identified myself with a certain label or identity, and completely thrown myself into being the best whatever I could possibly be. Until I was 22, I was a great student. Up until that Mother’s Day, when I was almost 27, I was a great worker in my chosen profession. And since then, I’ve wanted to be a mother, and have never been successful. Even when I stopped trying, it was because there were other elements in my life that took over – depression, divorce, new relationship, relationship with someone who wasn’t ready. But just because I was in a place where I shouldn’t be trying, I still wanted to try. I wanted to be a mother, and I knew that when I got back on that TTC road, I would have trouble, and a baby wouldn’t come easily.

Here I am, eight years later, and a baby isn’t coming easily. This Mother’s Day, I hope that I am a mother. I hope this IUI worked, and there is a little one inside me, starting to grow. I will find out next week if I am a mother, but I feel like a mother today. I want to protect this little one inside me, and meet it very soon – well not too soon… Maybe early next year…