This is the time of year I feel completely unappreciated. It is entirely selfish of me I know, to want or dog forbid, hope for a little pat on the back for everything I do.
Mother's Day absolutely is a Hallmark Holiday. It would take a complete fool (or idiot) to deny that, but it is not only a justifiable Hallmark Holiday, it is one that Dog damn it! We deserve.
For 40 weeks, we puke, stretch, gain weight, have headaches, are constantly tired, grow into planet sized belly status, are an insecure, worried, miserable, emotional wreck as we obsess over what is best, what is harmful, what we should do.
We cope with heartburn, which just breathing seems to cause. Incontinence- fuck, sneezing, coughing, laughing, doing nothing will cause us to piss ourselves. The roids... yeah, those fun, swollen, itchy, painful ass bumps that only get worse when you actually shit out the little "miracle". An inability to sleep in any comfortable position, and then being told if we sleep any way other than on our left side, we'll kill our babies. Yeah, that's helpful!... The constant back pain, stretching ligaments, muscle cramps, constipation, fuzzy vision, foggy brain, sciatic nerve pain, swollen ankles, feet, hands, everything. Sore, saggy, leaky, swollen, milky, stretch marked boobies. The smells... Yeah, everything smells approximately a million times stronger- I can tell if that baby in the basket over in isle 5 needs a change, all they way from isle 23. The constant nausea, you know, like you ate 3 foot long corn dogs and then rode the Ninja half a dozen times in a row.
I could keep going on about how miserable being pregnant is... But it won't mean anything to anyone who hasn't been pregnant.
Then comes the really fun part! Labor. In may case, never less than 36 hours worth of it... Then... Actually forcing another living human being the size of a large melon, out of a hole the size of a ping pong ball. Then... the best part of all!! Recovery!
You get to spend weeks with a crying, shitting, spitting, sucking bundle of joy that needs you 24/7, while your crotch which feels like a pound of ground round tries to heal. Every time you piss it feels like someone's dropped a fucking napalm bomb on your twat. Every time you shit, feels like giving birth alllll over again- and remember those roids? Yeah, they're not ass bumps anymore, they look like a fucking bunch of grapes. Your tits are as hard as fucking rocks, leaking on everything and hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes just remembering it. Oh, and the cramps, you know, as your uterus tries to shrink from watermelon back down to pear size. Then there is the period that never ends- kinda like the song that never ends, except that there isn't a cute little lamb singing, and you're passing blood clots the size of a gerbil every few minutes, and can't use tampons... so, should your pad leak- yeah, there goes the only pair of pants that fit in the wake of all of this destruction.
In the months to come, you're nothing but a walking milk dispensary. Your sole purpose is to shove a boob in the crying little miracle's mouth, and wipe it's ass. Which would be fine, if you could lose weight while doing it, but unfortunately dieting and nursing are not compatible if you desire to keep an adequate milk supply.
Then, they hit that stage where they start moving around. Crawling, walking, getting into absolutely everything that hasn't been nailed, glued, or otherwise sealed completely shut.
After that, the terrible two's- the only word they know at this point, is "No". Which they use for everything.
Later, kindergarten... learning to be social and navigating all of the pitfalls that come with... Then, then comes the really fun age, when they think they know EVERYTHING there is to know about anything- then the teen years, which thank Dog I haven't had to cope with yet, but anyone who has deserves a fucking medal simply for not killing the little bastards, or committing suicide.
Moms are the snot that sticks the tissue to the lining of the jacket pocket. There isn't anything we don't sacrifice to take care of our families- and not just our children.
We lose sleep, skip meals, are denied all privacy (I have yet, in 10 years to piss by myself), we keep everyone else going even when we're sick, when we walk into a store and look at sales, we're looking at teenie sneekers, pants, shirts, next year's school clothes... not a sexy little black dress. We skip showers when the clock is running fast, and forget about having our hair or nails done, we learn to be happy when we have time to brush our teeth- things that everyone else takes as granted, because we make sure that they have the time they need to do them.
We give up friendships, hobbies, alone time, careers... We give up our bodies and our lives. They're no longer ours, they belong to our children. We give up control, which is the hardest part... letting go of what you want, to do what everyone else needs.
So... It may be just a Hallmark Holiday to you, but to me, it is the one day each year that at least some of those life altering sacrifices are acknowledged. In fact, it is sad that it took corporate America to realize this, and capitalize off of it.
We deserve a thank you, ALL of us- regardless of how shitty your mom might have been, you wouldn't be here without her.
If you're not a mother, you'll never understand just how much we give up- or how much it hurts that it is simply taken as granted that we do so without thanks. That it is simply expected of us. As rewarding as motherhood can be, it truly is thankless... Having one day a year that we're acknowledged should be a granted. But, I guess it isn't.
