We are entering one of the hardest times of the year for me: the weeks leading up to Mother's Day.
Again, I am not going to get into a bunch of medical details, but I learned when I was in my 20s that physically having children was not going to be a possibility for me. It's not something I think about all that much anymore, but it's always there, a phantom ache that can cast a shadow at the most unexpected of times - or times that are completely expected, like holidays that prompt people to talk about how nothing anyone can ever do compares to being a mother, or how you can't really know what love is until you're a parent, or any number of other (inadvertently?) hurtful things people say.
A few years ago, I wrote this poem as I was contemplating the arrival of this dreaded day of the year. While it was specifically inspired by this particular unfulfilled dream for me, I think it can apply to many other unwanted life circumstances. It was written from a small, optimistic part of my psyche that doesn't pop out that often. I hope someday it proves to be true.
Broken Dreams
On a dimly-lighted street there's a broken-hearted place
Where dreams go that cannot come true.
They get there by falling through the cracks in our hearts
Left when they've been broken in two.
It's dark and damp and filled with regret,
Things we'll never do, have, or be:
Love lost, roads not taken, opportunities missed,
Really any soul's unanswered plea.
The emptiness left in the wake of those dreams
Can grab us and pull us right under.
There's simply no sunshine once they are gone,
Just storms: cold, rain, wind, and thunder.
Now it's not a place that you'd want to hang out.
It's full of death and decay.
It smells about like a fertilized field
Covered over with wet moldy hay.
But just like what happens to the soil in that field,
As the dreams break down, they make magic,
Setting the stage for something brand new to grow,
Creating beauty out of the tragic.
So if you want to bring back the warmth and the light,
You must first mend the rips and the tears.
Stitch them up with the help of those you hold dear.
It's the most reliable of all possible repairs.
It won't be immediate. Healing takes time.
But you'll find that once you do
Your dream just might come dancing back,
Maybe even with a new friend or two.
Because, you see, dreams never really die.
It's simply not how they're made.
But at times they may have to change up their shape
Or swap their details out in a trade.
Nothing ever truly ends,
But it may have to transform.
The new dream will still have its essence
In a whole new attainable form.
Dreams never come to break our hearts.
They're meant to help us be more alive.
So keep holding on and keeping close watch
For that come-true dream to arrive.
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Let me clarify something here: the fact that this day is hard for me doesn't mean I begrudge anyone else's enjoyment or celebration of being a mom. So since I'm not telling you that you can't be happy on Mother's Day, please don't tell me that I can't be sad.
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