Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother's Day

Well, Mother's Day has been kind of weird. I had to take Mr. X to the airport first thing in the morning for a business trip, and then I went on to sing at church. The fact that it is also Pentecost helped in that the mass was clearly focused on Pentecost, and more people were wearing red for Pentecost than were wearing flowers for Mother's Day. It was a struggle, though. There were so many kids there. I tried to focus and pray for the other people I know who were there at mass--the young woman who lost her mother, the godmother of a seriously ill child--and everyone else who is dealing with infertility and loss.

We had a first communion today, too. Oh my gosh, he was adorable. The family sat up in the first pew, and they were all so happy. The little guy is the third of four kids, and they were all in their Sunday best, with his sisters in matching dresses. He was all smiles through the whole mass. Then, when he was called up for communion, he bounded out of the pew and ran up the stairs to the altar. The priest always comes down the stairs to distribute communion, so he gently guided the boy back down the stairs with him, and people couldn't help but laugh. Fortunately, the laughter didn't seem to make him self-conscious. It was just the cutest thing!

The blessing didn't come until the end of mass, when we were all standing already for the final blessing. So the priest asked everyone but the mothers to sit down. It was a weird feeling. On the one hand, I feel like I really am a mother, even though my baby isn't here. And I could certainly use the blessing. If I were sitting out there in the congregation where no one I really knew could see me, maybe I would have stayed standing. But I was up in front of the church with the choir. If I were to stay standing, the rest of the choir would assume I was pregnant (heck, I just had to go to the bathroom during mass a few weeks ago, and everyone thought I was pregnant then!), and no one at the church knows about the miscarriage. But having to go and sit down was harder than just not standing up, if that makes any sense. So, I made it through mass pretty well, but it seemed like every few minutes I was having to choke back tears, which doesn't make for the best singing I've ever done.

After mass, I cleaned the house a bit, then took a nap--for four hours! When I woke up, I called my mom and cleaned some more. My mom's coming to visit this week, so I'm going to a little more cleaning before I go to sleep--I've spent more time online than I intended to (how unusual for me--ha!), so I'd better get to it!


allyouwhohope said...

I know what you mean about sitting down being worse. I was lucky today because they didn't bless mothers at mass for some reason (unless they did it at the very beginning since we were a tad bit late). I think priests should add an intention during prayers of the faithful on Mother's Day for those who long to be mothers. That would be really considerate and would go a long way to help those who don't get to stand up.

Jen said...

I always hate the mothers stand up part of church. We didn't go yesterday so that I didn't have to deal with it.

Kathy V said...

Church on Mother's Day is difficult. I went last year in the wake of the miscarriage and decided I wasn't going this year. While I sing in our praise team, I specifically asked the director not to put me on the schedule yesterday so nobody was counting on me if I just didn't feel up to it. I am sorry that you had to go through that.

LifeHopes said...

I think it is completely understandable how you felt. In fact, you are a mother.

I am sorry it was so painful.

kcmarie122 said...

Yes, that would be so hard. That is why we went to mass on Saturday night instead. But I think you are so strong for still being willing to go after everything you've gone through! Hopefully this will be the last sad Mother's Day for you...ever!

Anonymous said...

I share your pain, my dear friend. I make myself go to church on Mother's Day, while I am internally kicking and screaming all the way there, then I offer the pain, as always, for the souls in Purgatory. But for those of us for whom infertility is permanent, and we follow Church teaching on infertility treatments, when will the crying ever stop? And please don't tell me to adopt (that's the future), as if that will take away the pain of why my womb does not work.


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