Mother’s Day has been heartbreaking every year since my mom died. With the pressure to have children. With the disappointments and stress of infertility. I would walk around in a deep fog of sadness. I would avoid the stupid grocery stores with all their propaganda. Last year the babies were three months old, I was so sad because I just wished my mom could be here too. This year I felt different. In the morning I took Billy for a walk and then went to Yoga. Alan stayed home with the babies. I had time to do a meditation before yoga class. As we did our sun salutation’s I felt my heart open as I raised my arms up to the sky. I felt distance between my shoulders and ears and a deep emotional connection to myself. My eyes filled with tears. I thought of my mom. I thought of myself. I am simplifying.

4:48 A.M. Monday morning. Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t write yesterday, made a choice not to. Mother’s Day. My poor baby Jack is sick. He has the cold Fiona had, but got it much worse. We laid low yesterday. Should have stayed home the night before. Let Jack rest. We had to go to a function. A Church thing. It was on right at dinner time, 5:00. We stayed as long as we could but the babies started getting unruly. We walked out the door and I said, “Ah”, let out a big sigh. It was so stuffy in the Church.

As we walk into Our Lady of Loreto Church we say hello to family members already sitting in their row. We explain we may not be able to stay long. “Babies cry.” Says a brother in law. “You’ll be in good company, its O.K., babies cry.” He continues. Other people saying, “Yeah” agreeing with him. Does anything sound more miserable than sitting for a service in Church, wanting to respect the members and having two babies screeching and wanting to get up and get free? One baby sick, the other baby getting sick. Everybody’s hungry. It’s dinner time, bedtime, bath time, bottle time. Now Jacks way sicker than Fiona. A mother’s instinct. I knew I needed to keep the babies home. But to please my family I took them out. It’s one of the hardest things about being a parent. Staying true to what I believe. Even when doing so upsets people I love.

I’m in recovery mode, healing mode. I have to put me, Jack and Fiona first. I’ve been through a lot. I’m learning to love myself again. Maybe for the first time since I was a little girl. Before all the terrible things I went through. I’m learning not to be so hard on myself. To give myself a break. It’s a lot of hard work.