I always expect Mother’s Day to be hard. Living with infertility has marked that holiday as a tear jerker for me. That’s fine. I deal with it. But it’s always surprising to me about Father’s Day. For some reason, the infertility depression didn’t ever really affect Father’s Day for me. Sure I thought about how I wanted my husband to be a daddy and all that, but he wasn’t depressed about the holiday so neither was I.
Not until after my dad died. Now it’s awful. I hate Father’s Day. Just too many conflicting emotions all at once. If you followed me before this blog, then you probably remember what I’m talking about. I was pretty specific and open about the tumultuous relationship with my dad and all of the unresolved crap that still haunts me to this day. Fighting overwhelming sadness all day. So I’m just taking a break to validate my emotions and allow myself to say… this sucks. But now it’s time to put on my big girl panties and go to church, paint a smile on my face and pretend that nothing’s wrong.