You know, I kept waiting for Mother's Day to be a horribly hard day for me. And while it wasn't an easy day, I didn't have nearly as hard a time as I expected. We were out of town, celebrating a friend's son's First Communion, so that may have helped, but the intense sadness I anticipated wasn't there.
But Father's Day is different. It is killing me that The Man is not yet a father. That my Dad is not a grandfather. The words someone said to me a few months back 'you can't keep The Man from becoming a father, that's not fair' keep echoing in my mind. They hurt then, but they are piercing now.
And buying Father's Day cards? It's been a loooong time since I cried in Hallmark.
As I picked out the one for my Dad. I wanted so badly to pick out a 'grandpa' one. To tell him that a first grandchild was on the way.
And not being able to pick out a 'daddy' or 'daddy to be' one for The Man. There just aren't words.
In all these months, I've dreamed of telling our families that a baby was coming. As holidays have come and gone, I've planned just how we would tell them. I've picked out the gifts that we would give them - a small stocking at Christmas; a special Valentine; a little 'luck' of the Irish; small Easter eggs with big surprises inside; Mother's Day framed ultrasounds; and now Father's Day.
To make this more challenging emotionally is that Friday will be P+11, the farthest I typically make it. Though I did see P+13 last month. That will be Sunday. Father's Day. At this point, I admit I am not extremely hopeful. I feel just exactly like I've felt every other month at this point physically. And emotionally, these couple of days seem to be the lowest other than CD1. And then, on P+10 I seem to get this surge of hope. I know, I like to torture myself.
Yes, I am not a mommy. Yes, that hurts. But facing a Father's Day in which I may have to tell The Man he is not yet a father. It is almost impossible to bear. It is the first holiday from which I want to run and hide.