Maybe Next Year...

As I sit here taking in this beautiful, cool spring Sunday morning (which is a true anomaly here in mid-May Alabama), it seems almost offensive to be anything but joyous and at peace—and yet, here I am...crying into my coffee...where not even the warmth of the sun nor the coolness of the breeze are enough to dry my tears. Grief is strange in that way.

And even though I had anticipated these hard feelings today, it still doesn't ease the pain of what feels like a whole day dedicated to reminding me of something I am so desperately longing for and fear will never come. A social media feed full of sweet messages and pictures that makes me smile while simultaneously breaking my heart. And logically I know that this day is not a personal attack or some crazy conspiracy to get me down, but again...grief is strange in that way.

But I am also incredibly grateful for the many amazing women I have in my life who also happen to be phenomenal mothers and have taught and inspired me more than they'll probably ever know and who deserve to be celebrated today (and let's be honest, EVERY day). And of course, the pièce de résistance of motherhood (IMO), my mother, who truly should have a holiday dedicated to her alone. I cannot emphasize enough how impactful the women in my life have been on the woman I have become (and am still becoming) and the mother I hope to become someday. I love them...I respect them...I envy them. Grief is strange in that way.

Through this journey of infertility, I am learning every day just how complex we are as humans in our emotional capacities. Sadness and happiness can coexist. Joy and sorrow can coexist. Gratitude and jealousy can coexist. They can coexist because they must coexist. We have to allow ourselves permission and the space to process all of these feelings without guilt or shame, knowing that there is no wrong way to feel and no one emotion that defines us or a particular moment in our lives.

So as I take this gorgeous spring morning to process my feelings and sit in my sadness, I know that these feelings are not permanent and do not define me or this day...because tonight I will be genuinely and happily celebrating my sweet mama. I recognize that others also find today to be tough due to the loss of their own mothers or a strained relationship, and I don't ever want to take the time or the relationship that I have with her for granted.

If you are a mama, know that I am celebrating you.

If you have lost your mama/child or have a strained relationship, know that I am thinking of you.

If you, too, are struggling with infertility, know that I see you.

I don't know if I believe in speaking things into existence, but just in case: here's to celebrating Mother's Day 2022 as we had hoped we would be celebrating this year...as mothers.

The First, But Not the Last

“... Because every little girl watching tonight sees that this is a country of possibilities. And to the children of our country—regardless of your gender—our country has sent you a clear message: dream with ambition, lead with conviction, and see yourselves in a way that others may not simply because they've never seen it before, but know that we will applaud you every step of the way.”

— Kamala Harris

It has been a long four years, friends. I think anyone—regardless of which way you lean or how you cast your vote—would agree with at least that. The division, the drama, and the deliberate attacks on our democracy have shaken our country to its very core, which when added to the dumpster fire that was 2020, has simultaneously numbed us to the point where we don't even bat an eye when we see "cocaine hippos" scroll across our timelines. It has been a struggle for me (and I'm sure many others) to find and hold on to moments of significant joy in the seemingly never-ending chaos and calamity. But on this day—January 20, 2021, the 59th Inaugural Ceremony—something so monumental occurred that it transcends political party or partisan divides...we watched the first-ever woman (and first Black and South Asian American and daughter of an immigrant) inaugurated as Vice President of these United States.

It's true we've heard it said countless times by the media and political talking heads since November, but like many things this past year, the turmoil that was 2020 essentially sucked the life out of what would be (and should have been) a momentous occasion. Through the prolonged election results to the fraud-proclaiming conspiracies to the violent insurrection at the Capitol, we were never really given the time to fully soak in this incredible milestone. 230 years and 48 Vice Presidents later, we have finally been given the chance to say the words: "MADAM Vice President." And I know for myself that truly didn't hit me until I watched Kamala Devi Harris raise her right hand as she took her oath of office. I felt immense pride as though I knew her personally. I also felt tremendous sorrow—not only because it took this long for a woman to ascend to the second-highest office in the land, but also because neither I nor the rest of the country could celebrate it the way in which it so rightfully deserved. But mostly...I felt significant, exuberant joy.

“...this is a collective win for womankind.”

Joy in witnessing history being made. Joy in embracing a new day and a turning point in our country. Joy in celebrating a woman stepping into her power, and thereby empowering all women and girls to step into their own power. Joy in knowing that if I'm fortunate enough to have children, they will never know a world where a woman cannot serve as Vice President of the United States. Joy in never again being able to say, “A woman can’t…” because she did. Because WE did. From the sacrifices of the women who came before her to the women whose shoulders she stands upon and who paved the way to the White House to the women (especially WOC) who fought and advocated and voted for us to finally arrive at this moment with our own custom-made seat at the head of the table...this is a collective win for womankind.

Like many things in this country, we have come a long way but still have such a long way to go. I am not foolish enough to believe that one candidate or one administration or one historic moment can mend all the things our country needs to repair, and I am committing myself—as I hope you will too—to continuing to do the necessary work and hold this administration accountable. But I also hope that you will join me in taking a moment to fully experience the joy in her becoming the first, but more so the joy in knowing that she will most certainly not be the last.