I know I'm not saying anything revolutionary by acknowledging that the inescapable marketing juggernaut of Mother's Day is very hard on those of us for whom motherhood has eluded our grasp, despite our yearning, our grief, our medical interventions and our willingness to undergo any torture or indignity.
I believe, because it comforts me to do so, that we become mothers at the moment we decide to have children, even if our children take a long time and a tortuous route to arrive in our arms. If injecting yourself with hormones, emptying the bank account to pay for fertility treatments, sobbing over each failed cycle, and generally putting your body and soul on a slab for the mere idea of a child doesn't make you a mother, I don't know what does.
And so, for those of you who got no flowers or cards today, those whose empty arms ached more than usual today, those who asked the universe "why me?" for the millionth time today, I honor you, on Mother's Day, for all that you have done and all that you are willing to do.
May your children find their way to you and bring you happiness and healing.