Mother's Day, twenty years apart

Twenty years ago on Mother's Day, I sat in a church balcony and cried. 

I wanted to be a mother, and I was having problems conceiving.  Earlier that month, I'd taken Clomid in an attempt to help me have a baby.  (One of the side effects was night sweats.)

About three weeks later, I took a pregnancy test and it came up positive.

This Mother's Day, I came to church and found a bouquet of flowers displayed in honor of members' mothers who'd died in the last year.  One of the names mentioned was, "Thelma Sergent, mother of Tina Seward." 

A church member came up to me and said that the first Mother's Day without your mother was always the hardest.  I appreciated her kindness. 

It's interesting how many emotions Mother's Day stirs up.  In the days leading up to Mother's Day, I've seen several reminders about how not everyone remembers their mother fondly.  About how many women want to be mothers but aren't.  About those mothers who have lost children. 

And then, there is the greeting card, gift, and flower industry, ready to shower you with guilt about what you should be doing for your mother on Mother's Day!  I believe Mother's Day is second only to Valentine's Day in terms of flowers delivered, and this week.com article says that in terms of money spent, Mother's Day is third after Christmas and Valentine's Day.

This Mother's Day, I told my husband that all I wanted was chocolate and the day off.  I bought my own chocolate and while I did make lunch for everyone (grilled cheese), I've spent the day relaxing. And my sister and I remembered our own mother.

Twenty years of Mother's Days have run the gamut from crying over what I didn't have to feeling the loss of what I don't have now.  It's part of the circle of life. 

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.