It's Mother's Day. Should be a simple day, one would think. Just look at the Hallmark commercials.
But it isn't an easy day for everyone. Multiple thoughts run through my head each year.
First I think about my own mother, a most amazing person, who without knowing it did exactoy what she was supposed to do to assure that I was healthily attached and secure from before my birth. A person who, without fail has lived all of her 77 years and 360 days with integrity, dignity, compassion. My first thought on mother's day are of my own mother and the extreme gratitude I feel towards her for all she did for me as I grew up.
And then I think about my children. My first thought on Mother's Day is of their birthmothers. I think about what life must have been like for them on the days that they gave birth to my children... the bleak world they must have lived in, the struggles they had, the unfair hand they had been dealt. And I think of their pain on this day to not be with these amazing people whom they gave the gift of life.
And then I think of the birthing process and how I have never been through it. I did not go through an infertiility struggle, just got so busy parenting to even care if I could have children. And I think of how I do not know how i could love a child any more than I do my children who someone else gave birth to.
And then I think of myself as a mother -- all my failures, imperfections, frustrations.
And then I think of God, my father/mother who loves me perfectly.
And then I decide to stop thinking and not focus too much on the day, because it's all so complex.
I call my mom, I wish her a happy mother's day. I expect nothing from my children who struggle with this day, and am thrilled with everything special they do for me.
And then I ralize I've made it through another year and move on.
2 comments:
Claudia-Mother's Day is a day with mixed emotions for me as well.
Dear Mom,
What are you doing here? You seem to have a knack for showing up in the most unusual places. When my thoughts are miles away, I find you stepping into my every day life. At the most unexpected times, a little piece of advice or a childhood memory sends me back to you. As I get older, I can even see you in my reflection. After all of these years, I am still learning from your example.
Mom, if there is one thing you taught me, it is to never give up. When you were diagnosed with colon cancer at the age of 48, the doctors shook their heads and gave you six months to live. With incredible determination, you turned six months into almost six years. Rather than accepting your diagnosis as the end, it became your beginning. You lived each day with one goal in mind: to see your only child graduate from high school. Instead of retreating in despair, you lived each day with a single purpose. You endured weekly chemotherapy treatments and countless surgeries just for a chance to see me grow up. Whether you were in a hospital bed or propped in our living room, you never stopped being a mother. Even though we had ostomy supplies in the door of the refrigerator, you endeavored to make my life as an eight year-old girl as normal as possible. It would have been easy to let the details slide, but you always made the effort to tuck me into bed at night. Whether we were doing homework in the hospital waiting room or practicing spelling words at the foot of your bed, you lived life in the present. Unfortunately, however, life sometimes has its own ideas. Despite everything you suffered, you never saw me graduate from high school. In the end you lost the race of time, but you crossed the finish line a winner.
Years later when my own endurance was tested, I only had to look to your example for guidance. When I faced infertility in my late twenties, it was my turn to defy the odds. During a year of intense treatment, I struggled with the eager anticipation and the inevitable disappointment of each failed attempt. Even though it was difficult at times, I persevered. When I thought I had reached the limit for how many shots my posterior could endure; I remembered your collapsed veins and bruised arms from chemotherapy. My black-and-blue behind was nothing in comparison. In September 2002 you finally earned the title of “Grandma.” I can only imagine your excitement. Your little girl had crossed the finish line, too.
It has been over 20 years since I called you, “Mom.” Even though our time together was short, I have never forgotten your unbreakable spirit. It is your courage and inner strength that I carry with me every day. Now that I’m a mom, I can understand the depth of your love and your determination to live. No sacrifice is too great for the love of your child.
Mom, thank you for showing me that ordinary people can do extraordinary things. I am convinced that almost anything can be conquered when taken one day at a time. You lived your life with the hope that each day was a new beginning. You never gave up on the promise of tomorrow’s dawn. Mom, thanks for being my hero.
All my love,
Your daughter
Happy Mother's Day. I also wrote about my children's birthmothers on my blog http://adoptionsfromheart.blogspot.com/2007_05_09_archive.html
I always wonder what they are thinking on that day.
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