I kind of hate Mother’s Day.
Because people don’t know how to treat me on it.
People never know what to say or what not to say around me, and I get it, because if I was anyone besides myself, I’m sure I would be confused too.
What people will ask is how often I see her and if I send her cards and if she sends me cards, and I hate those questions because I feel like the asker expects a certain response out of me. If I say I haven’t seen her for two years, they will think that isn’t often enough, or if I say I only send things on her birthday and Christmas, they’ll think I don’t care. I feel judged.
A few weeks ago, I went to a baby shower for my college roommate. I hadn’t seen her in quite some time and she was one of the few people who didn’t make the situation awkward; she asked me how I felt. It was the first time I said the words out loud, because it was the first time anyone had honestly asked; I said, “each year it hurts a little less.” And once I said it, I knew that’s how I had been feeling.
A few days after, Gracie sent me a card that said, “I probably loved being in your belly.”
That was all the Mother’s Day I needed.