I hate Mother’s Day.

Just like others who may have bad relationships with their moms, no mom, they lost their baby or they struggle to be a mom.

Talking with my best friend/fellow IF sister yesterday while selling Girl Guide Cookies with our Brownies, we watched as every single person who entered that grocery store picked up Mother’s Day flowers. The store was nice enough to put us by the entrance which was also the home to all the flowers and Mother’s Day cards.

Two girls with a combined 17 years of infertility struggles between us.

We talked about the fact that Mother’s Day seemed to explode this year. We thought it was just both of our own depressive episodes, but someone overheard us and agreed. I’m about to become the voice of unpopular opinion, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I’m saying it despite the fact that I come from a line of incredibly strong and loving women who deserve to be honored every single day of the year.

Mother’s Day just blew up this year. Mother’s Day became less a day to honor mom’s for all they do and became more of a group of women stroking each others egos for a week. Mother’s Day became Mother’s Week. All week, there were mothers honoring themselves by sharing a photo challenge (share a photo when you were pregnant, when your child was first born and a picture of them now), then there was a facebook status update that was all about your first born child that asked questions about epidurals and labour. There were moms posting all week about the gifts they were being showered in each day.

As someone who struggles with this particular holiday, this was a hard week. It’s hard to avoid.

Why does this happen only for Mother’s Day? We don’t see this buildup for Father’s Day. Men don’t assault social media with status updates about their first born, and photo collages. Men don’t take part in circle jerks spending a week talking about how awesome they are. Most want something they had their eye on (some tools, a new video game), maybe some BBQ and a relaxing day. We get a feast of lobsters for my dad, my husband gets his dad a new golf club or fishing gear. We have supper. That’s it. Businesses and ads have always used both holidays as a build up, but usually that’s it. Why do women have to stroke each others ego continuously in the weeks leading up to the day.

This past week was CIAW or Canadian Infertility Awareness Week. I attended a fundraising paint night and had an amazing time. I talked about infertility and shared information. I talked about how important it was to me and for everyone trying to build their family to have support on this road. We want to be moms and dads, but we can’t. Do you know how many people commented or showed any support to me? Not many (literally my mom and my fellow IF sisters who still haven’t had any luck either and a handful of friends who support me relentlessly). Yet right next to that post were some of these meme’s and challenges to show how proud someone is to be a mom and those were liked by everyone who saw it. When has it become OK not to support the road to parenthood but to only celebrate the parenthood once the child is born?

And finally, if mom’s are so important, then they don’t need a special day to show them how much they are loved. If you really love your mom, grand mom and all the moms in the world, then why aren’t you showing them this love all year round. My mom knows how hard this day is for me, so she doesn’t ask much of me. Instead we will pick a day away from today and do something nice together. Why? Because my mom is amazing. Shes supportive. And she knows that she doesn’t need a special day for me to show her how much she means to me. She knows every single day just how much she means to me. Because that’s how it should be. Also, she’s on a well earned vacation with dad in Jamaica so there’s that. She doesn’t need me plastering social media and she doesn’t expect it.

If you’re a mom and your offended, too bad. Look at your social media feed today. Any of them. And I’m pretty sure all of my one opinion will be drowned out by all the feel good wishes flooding your social media. Bask in that instead. And know that for every message recognizing mothers today, there are so many out there hurting right now, just hoping to survive the day, that deal with hurtful comments when we have an awareness week, who don’t get a special day to show how loved they are despite the fact that they can’t reproduce. Today, my thoughts are with them. To all of those struggling today, I’m with you today. I wish I could hug you all. I’m living that pain too.

There, I said it. Depression is a bitch.

Can I just put it out there and say that I hate depression. I’m still feeling incredibly low. So low that I sleep a lot lately. I wake up, do a few things, stare off into space and then nap. Just to repeat until bedtime. It’s so hard. I’m used to being active and on the go. It also doesn’t help that the weather has been rainy and gloomy for days and will be until the end of the week.

But the fog is ever so slowly starting to lift. I can tell that I’ve hit my lowest point and that there is only going up from here. I’m expecting it to go back to bad again this weekend, but I know whats going to happen. I’m taking steps to unplug from social media, to up the self care game and make the weekend about strictly my survival. Thankfully my mom will be away on her tropical vacation so I can stay in and stay in self preservation mode.

But I can feel the move towards being less depressed which is one step closer to being not depressed and one step closer to being happy again. I can do this, I just have to weather this storm just a little bit longer.

In other news, still no updates on my Aunt. We continue to prepare for the worst, while still hoping that she just took off without telling anyone. I don’t kid myself on the odds, but I refuse to give up that tiny sliver of hope either.

Still no changes. 

No news on my aunt. 
But something has happened. After I wrote my last post, I was able to have a small part of that pressure release. That last part that just stopped me dead in my tracks just gave way and made room for me to live again. At least a little bit, which is so much better than what I was living with. 

It’s been little steps, but I started a new audiobook. I picked up my crocheting again. I started that Girl Guide paperwork I was dreading. I still can’t push myself beyond that. The clothes wait to be washed and the dishes too, but at least it’s something, right? 

So now I’m pushing myself to write. Because it’s giving me some release and I need to acknowledge that. 

So I’m here, writing. Hoping that it helps. 

I always turn to this space in times of pain, loss, confusion or sadness. My writing and my need of release always comes from a dark place. Of course this time is no different. I find myself covered in sadness with no real reprieve from it. I’ve tried desperately to search out some happiness and peace, but sadness finds more sadness and I try my best to ride this wave.

Finding happiness in my sudden expanse of free time instead leaves me bored and unable to find anything to fill the void that comes from leaving a job I truly love. Particularly after dedicating so much of my little free time to overtime.

Easter came and went, my least favorite of the holidays. It’s the holiday that always has the strongest effect on my infertility despite the fact that I consider myself unsubscribed from faith in general. While this holiday is seen by most as a holiday dedicated to the religious, its not. In our small community, the community as a whole shuts down. Easter weekend arrives and your options are church, family dinners and no businesses open to pass the time. Its a family based holiday. A holiday for children and happy families. And for a couple with no children, it becomes a boring weekend where family wishes you were more observant of religious holidays and turkey dinners. I truly feel like my life lacks something during this “holiday”. I acutely feel the emotional side of my forever empty womb and the longing in our parents eyes to be able to spoil grandchildren we may never have.

Easter always stings, no matter what I do.

Fast forward to last week, when I found out that an my Aunt/Godmother has been missing since Easter weekend. My mom’s twin sister has gone missing. No one has seen her since Good Friday and search crews have stopped the search indefinitely. Our family is beside itself with worry and grief. Press have released statements from search and rescue before the family has been notified. My mother is a mess. I’ve been dealing with my own guilt and shame. Our relationship has been strained at best. Each day, I relive hurtful words I’ve said from when I was younger and didn’t understand that her actions were influenced by her own problems. I may not have liked her, but she was my family and as the years have passed, I realized that she’ll always be family and I love her, just not the things she does to hurt those around her.

So fear, guilt and depression are my emotions as of late. I’m in a dark depressive pit that I can’t get myself out of. I don’t know what to do because nothing keeps my attention. I don’t know where to go, because nothing appeals to me. I start a movie or show, just to give up on it. I start reading and give up when I’ve read the same line 10 times in a row. I start to crochet and quickly lose interest. And when I do find something I enjoy, guilt shows up just to remind me that its still there.

Why are you smiling Kim? Is Debbie smiling, will she smile again? 

Why are you laughing Kim? Is that really appropriate right now? 

Why are you crying Kim? Were you really close enough to her to justify crying? 

Why are you sad Kim, it’s not like you were that close to her? 

Hey Kim, remember how many times you told her you hated her? 

That’s what I hear anytime I do anything. My inner voice is hard to live with. I wish I knew how to feel. How to act. I want to know shes OK, but I have enough common sense to know that the burned car, the lack of activity on all banking accounts all tell us that we might not be lucky enough to see her again. So instead we try to keep busy and wait for updates. We trust that the cops are doing their best and will tell us when they know more.

So for now, I write out my feelings. I give them a place to go to help me find some relief. I wish I could tell you that it worked, but we both know that’s a lie.

Please, if you read this, pray and hope that they find her.