My fetus-free womb used to convulse at the mention of Mother’s Day. At my request, my Mister and I transformed the whole weekend into a celebration of infertility. A sushi banquet would be followed by a jetted hot tub and possible soft cheeses. But Sunday Morning my throat still tightened when they attempted to force a pitying carnation corsage into my fisted hands.
If you’ve held back similarly motivated tears or are struggling to complete your family in any way, perhaps you should read about Laurel.