Almost

Rarely one for being overly sentimental, Mother's Day usually passes me by without much thought. Send a card to my grandma, call my mom. End of story.

I can't say that Mother's Day this year was the first time I thought about the impending motherhood I faced a few months ago. It would not be an overstatement to say that I've thought about it every single fucking day. Mother's Day reminds me of what motherhood really means--what my own mother and grandmother mean to me. It seems to me that motherhood is all about making choices and giving up a part of yourself for the betterment of someone else. Naturally, I thank the women who gave me life and raised me for every choice they made on my behalf, every decision they made that shaped my existence. But it wasn't until I found myself in a position to make those same choices that I began to have some understanding of what they already know. It wasn't until I was almost ready to make the same decisions that I felt a small amount of what they have always felt.

But sadly, there's no such thing as Almost Mother's Day. Instead of flowers or a necklace made out of elbow macaroni, I'm staring at the Plan B box wondering which choice to make this time.