Who Am I?

I skip church on Mother's Day.

I try and avoid baby showers, but when I can't, I try my hardest to 'grin and bear it'.

On Fast Sunday, if a baby is to be blessed, I silently weep. You might have seen me in Relief Society--when you were talking about the joys and difficulties of raising your children, I'm the one who sat there with nothing to say.When you proudly yet apologetically quiet a misbehaving child, you smile at me. You say, 'Be glad you don't have to deal with this.'When a child yells for Mommy, my head doesn't turn to see if I'm the one who's needed. My pockets aren't full of candy wrappers and used tissues that children gave to me instead of putting into a trash can.

On Christmas morning, I get to sleep as late as I want to. I don't have to wipe sticky fingerprints off the kitchen cabinets. I don't have to go to PTA meetings or teacher conferences. I don't have to chase a naked baby around the house begging to be allowed to put his diaper on him. I don't have to talk a snotty-nosed toddler into letting me wipe her nose, and I don't get to laugh as she follows my instructions to 'blow' by making raspberries with her lips. When my husband and I go out on a date, we can stay out as late as we want to. We can even go out on a weeknight. And if we decide on Monday to go to New York City, we can leave Tuesday morning if we want to. I don't have to go 'back-to-school' shopping every August. I don't have to see a pre-teen girl sneer at everything I think is cute. When I fix dinner, I can put onions and mushrooms in the main dish if I want to. And I don't have to eat macaroni and cheese unless I feel like it. I don't carry baggies with Cheerios or goldfish crackers in my purse. My home doesn't have that essence of baby smell, comprised of messy diapers, milk, and spitup. I can keep my fragile collectibles wherever I want to. I don't have to watch Barney or Teletubbies.

Do you know who I am? I'm the one who desperately longs to change a baby's diapers. I envy you and your children. I miss getting to soothe hurt feelings and kiss boo-boos to make them all better. I can wear silk if I want to--but I'd rather be wearing cotton that's wrinkled and worn from all the hugs and spitups and efforts to keep the children from killing each other.

Maybe I've been open about my struggles with childlessness. Maybe I've told you about the treatment and procedures I've gone through--in vain--to become a mother. Or maybe I haven't said a word. Maybe you think I'm childless by choice. Maybe you envy my seemingly carefree lifestyle. Maybe you secretly feel superior, because you're blessed with children. Maybe you're single, and envy my happy marriage. Maybe you know how unhappy I often am, but don't know what to say.

Do you know who I am? I'm your Sister. And do you know what to do? Just love me.