I wrote this last year on Mother’s Day. For those of you who don’t know my story: in 2012 my daughter passed away at 2 months old from a genetic disease for which there is currently no treatment or cure.
I never got to celebrate a Mother’s Day. She was out of my reach by the time May rolled around. For that reason, the day on which we celebrate motherhood is always a little painful. I celebrate the women in my life who are mothers – but mourn my own loss.
Last year, I vowed that I would not wallow. The universe disagreed. Here’s what I wrote:
Today’s mantra:
don’t hermit.
No sitting in the dark
alone in the chair
where I held her when she passed.
The chair is gone.
A party is planned.
I force myself to move on,
to keep living.
But I have to wonder
If I’m not supposed to sit
at home alone in the dark mourning,
then why is it raining? 
This year, my plan is to get the wallowing out of the way before Sunday, so maybe I can join in celebrating those women who I love and admire. Maybe it will be better, maybe not. I’m sure one day, after years of practice, I’ll get this thing right.