May 11th will be 8 months since my son Ian was stillborn. May 11th is also the day after Mother's Day; I'm not looking forward to either day. I've been thinking often of Mother's Day, trying to determine the real reason why I am not looking forward to it.

It's not only because I miss my son and wish I could turn back the hands of time and make this "stillbirth dream" go away, but also due to my interpretation of others viewpoints of my "motherhood" (those outside of my loss experience).

For instance, last year I received a Mother's Day card on Mother's Day! I was 5 months pregnant at the time; what a wonderful surprise to be recognized as a "Mother-to-Be." Will anyone recognize me as a Mother this Mother's Day (I have no other children)? THAT is what is bothering me.

The facilitator at my bereavement group made a comment last month to the effect of, "if you do have more children in the future you will be a better mother, more appreciative, more compassionate." True, I agree.

But, aren't I a Mother now? Am I suddenly excluded from the "Mommy Club" because my child died? I don't think so.

I'll be Ian's Mommy forever, no one can take that away from me. My heart says now that EVERY DAY SHOULD BE MOTHER'S DAY! Not just another day in May.

Not only am I saddened that others won't recognize me on Mother's Day but also that they will lose sight of the fact that I'm always Ian's mother, every day. I hate the feeling that my "motherhood" does not exist to others outside my loss experience and I realize they don't understand. I wish they would at least try.

Visit "JoAnn's Diary" to read her other entries during a year's time frame.

Two years ago I spent my first Mother's Day without my daughter.

Only one year earlier, the day after Mother's Day, I learned that I was pregnant with Katie, and I felt that finding out when I did was a sure sign that this was a very special child. I was right.

Now on Mother's Day I share in the joy that I was and still am Katie's mother.

Her gift to me on that first Mother's Day was the love that I feel when I think of her, and the joy that she brought my husband and I while we waited for her to arrive.

I did receive cards on my first Mother's Day; from my husband and my mother. They meant alot.

Now though, I send cards to other mothers who have lost their children, letting them know that someone recognizes them as the special Mother that they are. In this way you, too, can remember you child; always remembering that you are not alone.

It is very much the same for fathers on Father's Day. Fathers grieve, too. On my husband's first Father's Day, his one and only child could not be with him to tell him how much she loved him, but I was. Remember you husband, brothers, your own father and friends who may be grieving. Give them the love that you may feel unable to give to the child you lost.

Some people would like to think that these holidays were created by the greeting card companies to make money. I would like to think they originated through love.

This is what your child can give to you on Mother's Day and Father's Day - the ability to share with those in your life, the love that you ache to give.

To my daughter Katie, her father Jeff and her brother, Matthew, With Love, Karrie J.

(Note: Karrie sent "anniversary notes" to SHARE Atlanta parents for several years. We find that this means so much to our grieving parents. We send these notes to all our parents at the end of the first year.)

It actualy hit me very bad, even worse that the anniversary, or due date. Partially I think because after I lost Nora, I was very ill and did not go out socialising. The first day I went to our local pub and two friends of ours sent over 2 drinks, as they just heard I was pregnant?! Bad timing or what. Then the couple that we were out with, Nicola the girl lost her baby at 6 months with a lot of complications, he lived for about an hour but died. She doesn't think before speaking and asked what Tom got me for mothers day.

I had never thought of it that I was a "mother", but realised I was intitled to receive a card like all mothers, but Tom was actually afraid to get me anything encase it upset me. I voiced my opinion and said I would like something, even something small.

Mothers Day this year was a Sunday, so Tom suggested we go for a meal on Saturday night.

We had a lovely time, but he didn't mention Mothers Day at all. We met friends then on Saturday night at 2am, and stayed up talking till 11am the Sunday. I was exhausted but couldn't sleep as Nora was in my thoughts constantly.

My husband and I visited Ian's grave on Mother's Day in the latter part of the evening, just before dark. I broke down in uncontrollable tears when I saw a gift someone had left; a white rose was left by Ian's grave with a card. The card stated (as if it was written to me from my son), "I'll always love you Mom, love Ian." What a wonderful gesture! I'm still not sure who did that, but it shows how much love & support he/she had for us. I'll never forget that. I plan to dry out the white rose and place it with the card in Ian's scrapbook.

My husband bought me a gold necklace; 3 small blocks, each one with one of Ian's initials engraved. I'll cherish it forever. I also received 2 Mother's Day cards from close friends; how thoughtful they remembered.

Just when I thought that no one would think about Ian, or us ... it made me able to cope so much better with the day. I thank them with all my heart.

Visit "JoAnn's Diary" to read her other entries during a year's time frame.

On the first Mother's Day following the loss of my daughter, Annie, I went to a retreat at a convent. This was a very hard time for me. I had lost my mother when I was 18 but this year I was a mother but had no baby with me.

At Mass that morning Father talked about the bond between a mother and her child - how it is similar to the bond between Creator and creation. I cried through the entire Mass.

After Mass, one of my dearest friends, Sister Angelina, brought me to the front parlor, she reached behind the door and pulled out 2 long stem roses, one with a pink bow and one with a red bow. She said, "I think ALL mother's deserve roses on Mother's Day!"

She explained that the pink bow represented Annie and the red, my mother. What a beautiful gift!

The roses were beautiful but the acknowledgement is the gift that I will treasure forever.

I couldn't believe that a woman whom will never have biological children of her own could understand so much! I have truly been blessed by great friends!

I lost my baby at 10 wks on March 3, 99. I was really scared of how Mother Day would affect me. Well here we are. I'm at the computer, my face soaking wet, my heart broken. This is my first Mother's Day, and it hurts bad.

I found a Mothers Day poem called "Yes, I Am A Mother" that really helped me.

I know that I'm sitting here wishing that someone would recognize me today even though my baby isn't here, so I want to recognize all of the SHARE Atlanta families and tell each and every one of you that you, your families, and your babies are in my thoughts and prayers every day, but even more so today.

Marcia's thoughts: Thank you for your kind words of support for all the Mothers who have lost a special baby and are trying to "get through today." It is one of the hardest days for us to get through.

What gives me hope is knowing that we do survive our great pain and part of the reason is that we reach out to one another. This IS God's plan. His way of loving us. And you have been part of that today.

You are not alone. Tears and pain are part of the grief we feel because we have lost a little one so special to us. God gives us comfort through each other and through the knowledge that we will NEVER forget these special babies. They will be forever in our hearts and souls.

I wanted to share this with all of you:

In December 1997 I took a trip to Manhattan at Christmastime (three months after my son Ian's stillbirth). At first I wasn't going to go, because finding joy in the season so soon after Ian's stillbirth was extremely difficult.

One of my favorite things to do in Manhattan is see the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center and watch the ice skaters. At a store nearby, I found a book "The Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center," which tells the history of how the tradition started. Of course, I had to buy that book (I'm a book nut). On the bus ride home, all I could think about was how much I missed Ian and how sad I was that he would never see the Christmas tree at R.C.

Recently, my daughter took a liking to that book (she'll be 18 months on May 20th). She loves flipping the pages and pointing to the colorful Christmas tree photos. Karalyn is now "talking" quite a bit, and one of her favorite words is TREE. She points to the photos and says "TREE." How wonderful that makes my heart feel.

I'll never forget clutching that book with tears streaming down my face on the bus ride home from Manhattan in 1997, hoping and praying that one day I could share it with a new child, and now I'm blessed with my daughter!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to all of you!

Church was not on the top of my agenda yesterday, Mother's Day. We were expecting a house full of relatives and friends over, and my husband was in charge of the planning and executing. I hated to leave him home alone with the kids to handle everything by himself, but for some reason I felt more compelled to attend morning services, so I went.

As is customary at most churches on Mother's Day, the minister asked all grandmothers, mothers, expectant mothers, and potential mothers to stand. Amidst the applause as we women stood, I heard a big sob. I looked down to my right, and sitting next to me was a young lady who was being consoled by her husband.

A little later, during the welcome segment of our service, I had the opportunity to ask him if they had lost a baby. The answer was yes. I embraced the young lady and told her I had been there myself.

I wrote them a short note telling of my two losses; the first in '95, the second in 99', and urged them to check out the Share Atlanta website.

At the end of the service, remembering the pain of the first Mother's Days after my losses, I told the husband that it would take a while, but that the pain would evenutally numb.

Who knows why I happened to be sitting next to those two young people yesterday; maybe my two little angels in heaven guided me there. All I know is that I was glad that I could "share" with them in their time of need.

I think there is something different about loosing your first child.

I have had other people come to me since my firstborn baby son Patrick, died at birth on Jan 11 2005. They have shared their stories of miscarriage and stillborn babies. I am amazed by how many people have lost children.

I appreciate their willingness to share their story with me. However, some of these people had already had a child. They know what it is like to be called mama. They know the joy of seeing their first child open his eyes and grow and change. They know the joy of birth announcements and showing off your first baby. Someone still calls them mommy.

I not only lost my precious baby, but the honor and experience of having a first baby. What will happen if I am blessed with another baby? Will he be considered the second child or will people refer to him as the firstborn. Will he always feel he lives in his dead brothers shadow?

Even though I will be overjoyed if I become pregnant again, it will not be like my first pregnancy, which was very very special. When people ask "is this your first?" What do you say?

I am slowly returning to my normal life, going back to work and other activities. But I have missed out on the experience of raising my child. I have no other children calling me mama so I am just me, a childless married woman like I was before.

All the transformation I went through in my pregnancy, physically and mentally, for nothing. The scars, stretch marks, weight, and nothing to show for it. The way I changed mentally and emotionally as a person during my pregnancy, in preparation for becoming a mother, all for nothing. I am just the same old me, doing the same old thing.

Some people tell me "you are still a mother." I try to believe that in my heart. I know its true, but to the world I am "married, no children." I have no stories to share with other mothers about my baby. I can share my birth story as I did experience childbirth, yet my story has a different outcome from theirs.

I have all the baby clothes and accesories, yet mine sit in boxes in my closet. My subscription to parents magazine still comes in the mail. I give it to my friend who has 2 healthy children.

The other day a friend of mine told me her birth story about "being tortured by the nurses and then it ended in c-section after 28 hours of back labor. . " I said, "wow that's rough. But you still got to leave with your baby. YOu got your baby." She remembered quickly what just happened to me and said I was right.

No one will ever complain to me about their kids or their birth story without hearing it from me. I won't bring it up otherwise. I just want people to appreciate their gifts, their children.