Last year, I wrote a post, hoping it would be the last time I was not celebrating Mother’s Day. And here I am, another year later, and still no Momma-status.
It is hard not to feel like a failure. I am reminded that the terrifying downside of setting goals when you have no control over the outcome is that things may not go as you want them to.
In truth, I’ve done my best to ignore the holiday entirely, which has kept Ben in a perpetual state of confusion. Why exactly don’t I want to discuss what kind of flowers to send to your mother? When I started tearing up at a random commercial about gifts for mom, Ben figured out what was going on inside my head. And I admitted, that this year it would be easier if the holiday just dissappeared in my little world.
The impending holiday reminds me, again, of how far we have to go, how much more I could be (and need to be) doing to control my blood sugar, how much weight I haven’t been losing. All around, it makes me want to swan dive into a gallon of cookie dough ice cream . . . As far as I’m concerned, the weekend will be about TLC, prepping for BBC Philly, and de-stressing. And possibly avoiding visual contact with any pregnant women and newborns.
But I’m trying to stay hopeful. Because while this Mother’s Day hurts like hell for me, maybe next year will be better.