Mother's Day.

It's funny.

The way my life suddenly seems to be dictated by these landmarks in time.

I consider 2019 to be a year of firsts: our first Christmas without a pregnancy announcement, our first Mothers Day without a pregnancy announcement, our first __________ *insert any holiday and the rest of the previous sentence*.

I vividly remember this day last year. (It honestly feels like only a few weeks ago because time seems to be sped up lately.) There was a sense of mild, quiet sadness. We'd been trying for a few months and although I knew it wasn't totally abnormal to have not conceived yet, the sense of maternal longing was ever so slightly elevated. I remember wishing to myself that I could be celebrating a pregnancy, but also giving myself reassurance because by next year I would be a mom! Or at least pregnant!

Ha.

It's intended to be a celebratory day. And at the end of it all, it is. Because don't get me wrong, I still take full advantage of the opportunity to give well deserved praise to my mother, grandmother, mother in law, and all other moms out there. This post is not at all intended to dampen the praise they deserve on this day and every day. I believe it's the hardest job in the world.

But, just like really any holiday, the day also brings up some feelings of emptiness. Not just for those who haven't had a baby yet, but also for those struggling to have their second or third.

Those who don't speak to their moms anymore.

Those who've lost a child.

Those who never knew their real moms.

Those whose moms are no longer on this Earth.

It can be a hard day for so many.

One in eight women, like me, cry on Mother's Day because they are mothers in waiting.

I remember when I used to work in my old job a few years ago at the front entrance of a theme park and we would hand out flowers to all the female Guests on Mothers Day. This one particular year, I handed a flower to a young woman and said "Happy Mother's Day!"

She denied the flower with a slight stammer in her voice saying, "Oh um, I'm not a mom."

I gleefully exclaimed that she was still welcome to have one in celebration of the moms in her life. She begrudgingly smirked and took it.

Later in the office, co-workers and I chatted about our interactions and I recall saying how I thought it was rude of that woman to "not just take the damn free flower." Ohhhh, sweet young Lindsay. If only you understood then what you understand now.

Although I'll never know for sure, there's a good chance that woman was a mother in waiting just like I am now. And now I know, though I thought I was presenting a pleasant surprise, what I likely gave her was a painful reminder of what she doesn't have. I get it now.

Just this morning, I went to a store. And as I paid for my items, the cashier said "I'd say Happy Mothers Day to you, but you don't look old enough to be a mother. So happy Mother's Day to your mom!" *Welcome to eyeroll city. Population: me*

My response? A simple, "I'm plenty old enough. But thanks, I'll tell her."

As a female on an infertility journey, everything seems to be a reminder. Not just Mother's Day. No, no. Mother's Day is just a good opportunity to talk about it.

My home office, for example.

I have a hard time cleaning my office. Because my office is the future nursery. And every time I clean it, I can't help but think "maybe next time I clean this I'll be moving all of my stuff out and baby stuff in."

Or my sisters bachelorette party. When a drunken friend of mine put on my matching bachelorette tank top over her bathing suit for a minute and, in an innocent attempt to help my self image, acknowledged that the tank top was HUGE and that I was definitely not that big! Well... I had ordered them 7 months prior. I was hoping I'd need that size by then.

And don't even get me started on how big I ordered my bridesmaid dress "just in case."

Or the neighbor on her daily walk who comments "wow! I wish I could fit two cars in MY garage! You have nothing in there!" But what she doesn't know is that I would LOVE for that garage to be full of toys, and bikes, and general kid clutter- because we all know that's why everyone else can't fit two cars in theirs. I would love to only be able to fit one car.

Or... you know... every month when we get a physical, painful manifestation of our defeat. Every 28 days. Like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

If you were to witness me in these moments when they happen, you'd have no idea what was going through my head. (I have a degree in theatre, after all. I know how to keep a pretty good poker face and improvise an acceptable response.) So much so that now reading this, you might even think I'm being dramatic. But these emotions are buried. They live so far down deep inside of me. Yet I am always aware of them. In every second of every day. I carry the thought with me in everything I do and every move I make.

So today, I want to dedicate Mother's Day 2020 to all of the others like me.

The ones whose one desire in this lifetime has yet to be fulfilled.

The ones are not physically mothers, but have had motherhood placed on their hearts.

The ones who are not mothers yet, but will be.

To all the Mothers in Waiting, Happy Mother's Day.