It's National Dance Recital two-week-span or something. The big dance school in our area had their recital two weekends ago. I heard about it over and over from friends of ours whose daughters were going to be twirling in tutus across a local stage. Fellow bloggers have written their own stories. Friends of ours from various locales have been blogging about their daughters' recitals.

And I've just been sitting here. Sad.

You don't expect it. You just don't. To feel sad over a dance recital. I can't count the number of dance recitals that I have either attended or danced in over the years. Shouldn't I be "dance recital-ed out" after all these years?

My answer is no. Apparently not.

And I'm lucky. I know that I am. I acknowledge it and cherish it. Munchkin's Mom has sent me videos of dance classes and her first little recital. I was recently informed that, come fall, she's moving up to "real" ballet instead of "little kid dance." She'll wear her hair in a bun and everything! And I am so very excited for her! And I'm so very proud of her! And I think it's amazing that her Mom continues to think of me both to tell me things like that particular one and to share videos and pictures with me so my heart can swell with pride. I know I'm lucky. I don't need you to remind me.

But.

There's always a but, no?

I'll never dress my daughter for a recital. I'll never purchase her tutu. I'll never hang it in the bathroom for a few days while we all take hot showers so that the wrinkles smooth themselves out. I'll never gather her hair together in a bun. I'll never slip ballet shoes on her feet. I'll never take her hand in mine as we walk towards a dance recital building. And I'll never watch her dance and think, "Aw, my baby."

Because, even if I am blessed enough to attend a recital someday, none of those things will be "my place." Those are things reserved, rightly so, for her Mom. As her birth mother, my role is to attend and support and to encourage. Yes, I can also buy flowers to give to her afterwards but they will always be handed over with a hug after the mandatory parental hugs and flowers. It's hard to take second place even though I understand and accept my given role. I'm not saying that they don't deserve their hugs first or to give their flowers first; they do! I'm just saying it is hard.

However, I'm sure I have some time to digest and accept some of that as it will be another year before a recital with no idea of whether I will be invited to the next one or whether I can attend given family responsibilities here. Instead, I'm dealing with something else, completely apart from my daughter's family. I hear this every time my face falls a bit when my friends talk about their daughters' dance recitals:

Oh! You're so lucky you don't have to deal with all of this!

Most of these mothers who have said such a thing don't know about my daughter. They are casual acquaintances from church or my husband's employer. A few who have known about my daughter have said something similar but I haven't corrected them; what's the point?

Instead, it hits me pretty hard. I don't feel luck. I'd gladly shell over the cash for a dance recital costume at this point just to have my daughter with me. I don't feel lucky. I feel very unlucky. I feel like crying. And, in fact, I have a few times. These are moments that I play the tricky "what if" game. These are the moments that I beat myself up for not having the magical forethought to know that she would love dance and that I would hate missing all of this in a role that is most-assuredly not the one of Mom.

And so, Moms of daughters, answer me this: are dance recitals mostly over with this past weekend? Can I come back out of hiding? Are you all done with picture sharing and story telling and lamenting the cost of the event? Because as cute as your pictures and stories are, my heart is tired. I need to rest and gear back up for next year.

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For more on grief, read these posts.



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