I Am An Invisible Mom: A Mother's Day Love Story For My Stillborn Son

I spent last Mother's Day lounging on a picnic blanket under the sunny skies of the Boston Harbor -- so sunny, in fact, that my husband and I sought out one of the only meager trees atop Spectacle Island for shade. It can often be cool in early May in Boston, but on this day, the heat bore down. At 16 weeks pregnant, the shape of my rounded belly under my striped sundress was only obvious to those in our inner circle who knew we were expecting. The word itself -- expecting -- pregnant with meaning. We were expecting so many things on that Sunday afternoon: Our first child to join our family in the fall. A little boy. I consider myself an invisible mom; identifying with emotions of motherhood without the visible passport. I cannot take my son to the park or feed him in the wee hours or read him a bedtime story. As a culture that values tangibles, I do not fit into any recognizable group. If I answer that I have kids (a question I'm asked all too often), it's assumed that I have a living child. The follow-up conversation is just too intense, too blunt, that I simply cannot stand to burden the person asking such a standard question with such a heavy answer. But responding that I do not have children discredits the time I spent loving my son, caring for him and nurturing him as all moms do. That answer minimizes his life. And boy, his life was anything but small by measure of how it has impacted mine. Us invisible moms are everywhere, part of a compulsory club of which none o...
Source: Healthy Living - The Huffington Post - Category: Consumer Health News Source Type: news