Kickin' & Screamin'

Mothers Day is the holiday that has changed most drastically for me throughout the years.  As a child, it was one of my favorite days….as we celebrated my beautiful Mother and Grandmother.  A huge meal was usually prepared by my Grandmother, followed by multiple homemade desserts, fun and tons of laughter.  Both Mom and my “Nain Nain” made me feel just as celebrated as them.  “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be a Mother” my Mom would always say.  I’ll admit that comment, which I heard year after year (and still do) always made my heart happy….and does so even more now that I catch myself saying it to my daughter.  She, just like me, is an only child….and truly is the reason I’m a Mother.

Later in my life, after getting married on my thirty second birthday, I developed a strong desire to become a Mother myself.  This happened a few years after my “I don’t want to have children” phase that many women go through.  Yet it seems that those of us who boast that comment the loudest end up being the ones who change our minds the strongest….suddenly living in disbelief that we ever felt that way.  Suddenly wanting nothing more than to have a child.

For a few years, Mother’s Day became a day I dreaded.  This will make me sound like a horrible person to many of you….for your Mothers have passed on and you miss them more than words can say.  Yet, I still had my beautiful Mother during these years….and still dreaded the day, for I selfishly couldn’t think of anything else but the fact that I couldn’t be a Mother. I felt like the world was celebrating a day that I couldn’t fully participate in.  I showered my Mom in cards and flowers and special time together, faking a smile to everyone else, though my Mom knew more than anyone how bad I was hurting.

I thought the worst slap in the face of Mother’s Day was during the time I was trying so hard to get pregnant.  Going through endless infertility treatments, shots, drugs, more shots, tears, disappointments, and BAM!  “Happy Mother’s Day to all the Moms in the world!  You’re never going to be one!”….or so I believed as I once again faked a smile and made the most of the day.  But I was so very wrong.  The hardest Mother’s Day was actually in 2006.  Mother’s Day fell on May 14 of that year, and a baby girl had been born in Guatemala City just eighteen days before.  One week after her birth, we were told that she would be ours.  An eight pound healthy baby girl whose birth Mother couldn’t give her the life she deserved.  Ours.  Our daughter.  In one way, it was the happiest Mother’s Day I could have ever imagined.  But the distance between us and that sweet baby in Guatemala tore me up.  I hadn’t even met her yet.  She didn’t know me.  She didn’t know my voice.  She didn’t know my face.  But she was to be mine.  The laws made us wait another few weeks before we finally met our daughter….and the laws made us wait another eleven months before we were able to bring her home.  Laws.  Red tape.  Government.  Authorities.  Keeping me from meeting my daughter.  But we celebrated.  My Mother gave me my first ever Mother’s Day card.  I still have it….tucked in my bible. I was a Mother.  The day felt better.  Not complete yet–until the next year when we had our Ella in our arms.  She had been home with us for just over a month when Mother’s Day rolled back around.  It was MY Mother’s Day.  It finally happened.  That year, for the first time in many, many years, I went to bed on the evening of Mother’s Day and I didn’t cry.  Instead, I laid on the sofa with a baby girl sleeping on my chest until the wee hours of the morning….at which time I finally put her to bed in her little crib.  Then I sat on the floor beside her and fell asleep.  I spent the entire night with my baby girl.  It was the best Mother’s Day ever.

The ups and downs of this day still occur, as the death of my Grandmother changed everything once again.  I see the sadness in my Mother’s eyes, as well as the eyes of many of my friends who have lost their Mothers.  I dread that day.  Though I’m convinced my stubborn Mother will refuse to give up and will most likely live to be one hundred….I still have a sick fear in the pit of my stomach that I might possibly be joining that group one day….experiencing Mother’s Day without my Mother.

I braved the grocery store this morning.  As I sat in my car, tying my mask on to my face (ahhhh yes….the Mother’s Day of coronavirus…) I counted eight people walking to their cars with flowers.  Some were young, some older….on their way to present their Mother, wife, sister….who knows…with flowers in celebration of her special day.  I laughed out loud as a man walked out of Great Clips and yelled “Man!  That felt good!” I guess the quarantine had caused him to fall a little behind on his haircuts.  He kept running his fingers through his hair as he walked up the sidewalk towards me.  We entered the store at the same time, and I saw him again in the checkout line with a huge bouquet of flowers.  A haircut and flowers.  Looking good for his Mom…or maybe his wife.   As I finished my shopping, I noticed there were many more, purchasing flowers and plants, balloons and cards.  I loved the thought of all the recipients of these goodies, how sometime today they would be given their gifts.  Many happy women will be smiling today.

But many will be crying.

I bought flowers today too, but mine were a bit different.  I bought flowers for my Grandmother’s grave…which I visited this afternoon with Ella and my Mom.  The headstone and grassy mound was as close as Mom can get to her Mother today.  The knowledge that she will indeed see her Mom again one day gives her comfort and hope.  But some days, even comfort and hope can’t keep the tears away.

I woke up this morning to a beautiful hand made card by my girl who is now fourteen years old.  She had prepared a scavenger hunt, where she led me through the house to find colorful paper flowers with handwritten notes on the back of each one.  Wonderful quotes, like my favorite– “Nothing is really lost until your Mother can’t find it.”

As we have laughed and thoroughly enjoyed our day together,  I can’t help but think of someone who I never had the privilege of meeting.  A Mother.  A woman who lived in the small village of San Marcos, Guatemala, who decided to give her baby girl up for adoption.  I have always loved this woman…more than I ever thought possible.  I mean….how can you love someone so much that you’ve never met?  Someone I’ll never meet.  But the love and admiration I hold for her is more than I can explain.  She gave birth to a baby girl who has turned out to be someone she would be in complete awe of.  She would be amazed at how beautiful her baby has turned out.  She would love to hear her baby girl’s laughter.  She would love to see her dance, and to hear her sing.  She would be so impressed at what a good heart her baby girl has.  How much she loves me and her Grandmother.  How much she loves animals.  She would love to know what a friendly social butterfly her baby girl turned out to be….never meeting a stranger.

I think of her often throughout the year, especially today.  I guarantee she has thought about me as well, and the beautiful baby girl she said goodbye to within hours after giving birth.

I overheard an older lady in the grocery store this morning, talking to someone as she waited in line to pay for her groceries.  Apparently, she had recently lost her Mother, as the lady in line with her asked how she was holding up.  The woman’s reply, “it hurts.  Every day hurts….but I’ve dreaded today.  I knew Mother’s Day would hurt even worse.”

It’s definitely been a day that hurt many.  There are many of you who have buried your Mothers, and miss them more than you ever thought possible.  Some of you never felt the true love of a Mother, for the time she should have spent with you was spent with drugs or alcohol, and the unbelievable unfairness of hard times.  Some of you have buried your daughter, who was also a Mother, and the ache you feel for your grandchildren eats you up inside.   Some of you ache so badly to become a Mother, that you are simply waiting for today to be over, so that you can continue to pray that maybe next year, on Mother’s Day, it will finally be your day.

Some of you may understand how Ella’s birth mother must be feeling today.  And some of you  understand how I feel today, as an adoptive parent–so filled with thankfulness that you think your heart my explode….simply unable to believe that God chose YOU to be their Mother.  That God chose THEM to be your child.

It’s most definitely a day of many, many emotions….maybe more so than any other holiday.

Some of you have a rough week ahead.  Sure…today was nice, but tomorrow you are back to screaming toddlers and dirty diapers and negative bank accounts.  Tomorrow you may be back to not knowing how much longer you’ll have your job due to the current state of our world.  Some of you are doing it all alone….you’re in my club.  And though you don’t think so–you are KILLING it.  YOU are a hero.

No matter what kind of emotions today brought to your heart, I hope you feel peace.

Whether or not you are a Mother–even if there’s not one single human being that you’re responsible for–you’re still responsible for yourself.  So, take care of yourself.  Find peace.  Find happiness.  Just be sure to find that happiness within YOURSELF–because no one else can do it for you.  Then, if you are lucky enough to still have your Mom around, give her a call.  Even if you’ve already called her.  Even if you’ve already spent the day with her.  Do it anyway.  Just give her one more I love you to complete her day.

Below, you’ll find one of my favorite stories, by one of my favorite writers–Erma Bombeck.  Read it.  Enjoy it.  Believe it.

Peace to all.

 

 

“When God Created Mothers”  –by Erma Bombeck

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of “overtime” when the angel appeared and said. “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.”

And God said, “Have you read the specs on this order?” She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts…all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands.”

The angel shook her head slowly and said. “Six pairs of hands…. no way.”

It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” God remarked, “it’s the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have.”

That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel. God nodded.

One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, ‘What are you kids doing in there?’ when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn’t but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. ‘I understand and I love you’ without so much as uttering a word.”

God,” said the angel touching his sleeve gently, “Get some rest tomorrow….”

I can’t,” said God, “I’m so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick…can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger…and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower.”

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. “It’s too soft,” she sighed.

But tough!” said God excitedly. “You can imagine what this mother can do or endure.”

Can it think?”

Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise,” said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model.”

It’s not a leak,” said the Lord, “It’s a tear.”

What’s it for?”

It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride.”

You are a genius, ” said the angel.

Somberly, God said, “I didn’t put it there.”