The other mothers...

I wrote this on Friday, before Mother's Day, but never got around to posting it. I stayed off my phone and the computer for the most part yesterday, but had so many beautiful Facebook messages, texts, and emails. And I know there are many people out there that have people on their hearts but don't know what to say. I wish I could have an answer for you, but I don't. I sit here and write this little intro at a picnic table covered in blue (Mitchell) and red (Carson) painted handprints that says in fading paint "Happy Mother's Day 2009". I think today may be the day that I put a clearcoat on the table. I've only been meaning to do that for... seven years.

For me, Mother's Day was for the most part, another day. I have shed more tears this morning than I did yesterday. Carson is a delight and a joy; he is so funny and sweet (most of the time; he is twelve...) and makes people smile without even trying. But when he said he wanted this to be the "best Mother's Day ever" -- that was hard. Because it wasn't. It couldn't be. It was a good day for the most part, but there is so much on my mind and heart. So here was my Mother's Day post: Love you Mommy. Love you Grandmommy. Love you Carson. Love you Mitchell.

The Other Mothers…

Mother’s Day is Sunday, and I suspect it will be one I will probably not care to remember. But as I think about Mother’s Day, and all its loaded meaning, I know I am not the only person who isn’t excited about all the hoopla. We can’t avoid it – every other commercial is for flowers or jewelry, and every store has a big display reminding us!

But at the same time, I want to honor MY mother, and grandmother, who are two of the strongest people I know. And I want to remember and honor so many of you, who also find Mother’s Day hard. It isn’t a surprise to you all that my grandmother, my mother, and I are all finding this Mother’s Day particularly challenging.

Here’s to my mom, who found herself a single mom for over a decade. Who worked two and three jobs, even though she had a college degree and a professional job, but a teaching salary just didn’t provide enough even for a single woman with a little girl. Who taught me to read when I was two years old (and she was 25). Who has had my back every single minute of every single day for 46 years. This year, Mom is recuperating and in physical therapy following knee replacement surgery.

Here’s to my grandmother, who in many ways considered me her “bonus baby.” I am older now that she was when I was born (and believe me, Mitchell had figured that out a couple of years ago). Having a “young” grandmother meant that she was always up to go shopping (we wore out Hickory Hollow Mall back in the day, and my grandfather would always say “you should have stayed all night” when we would come in late after shutting the place down), or that she would take me to Opryland, just the two of us. This year, Grandmommy has moved into an assisted living facility that she isn’t sure she likes, but now she is in a more skilled facility, recovering from a fall and a badly broken ankle.

Here’s to you, who like me, are missing one or more of your children this Mother’s Day. However you choose to celebrate, or not, you will always be their mom, and they will always be your baby. I’d tell you what we are going to do, but beyond going to brunch, I don’t really know what I will want to do. Know that whatever you choose to do, your friends and family are thinking of you today.

Here’s to those of you who lost your children before you ever knew them, or before they were born. I often wonder about the “middle” child who would be turning fourteen this summer, even more so now. Did Mitchell recognize his sister? (I don’t know if that baby was a boy or a girl, but I always felt like it was a girl!) We don’t talk about infant loss or miscarriage much, but those children still tug at our hearts.

Here’s to so many of my friends, who celebrate Mother’s Day with your children, because you can’t celebrate on earth with your mothers. You have your own angels in heaven, and I have a feeling they were in the crowd of people welcoming Mitchell there. I won’t pretend I know how difficult this day is for you.

Here’s to you who wanted to be a mother, but the opportunity never came. Many of you have chosen to become a mother to children who you didn’t give birth to, but you have loved and mothered kids in your own way as mentors and teachers. Thank you for your giving hearts.

Here’s to you, new moms who are struggling with diapers and sleepless nights and picky eaters and colic. Here’s to you, moms who are watching your children prepare to graduate and walk out the door. Here's to moms with adult children who silently suffer with their children's struggles. Who are we kidding? Every phase of our children’s lives is challenging.

Here's to single moms, who will celebrate Mother's Day with a handmade card, a flower from the yard, burned toast and runny eggs, because your littles want you to feel special. You are the glue, even moreso when you feel like you are coming unglued. On behalf of all children of single mothers, hear me when I say you are loved, you are special.

Here’s to moms of fur-babies. I have always had pets, and pets are not exactly like having kids, but in some ways they are. You love them, and they love you, and depend on you. Many of you have animals and kids, or animals and no kids, and you give and receive love through your care for your animals, who are God’s creatures, too.

Here’s to all of you who have complicated relationships with your parents, and/or with your kids. Trust me, I know how weird Father’s Day was for me growing up, so I can imagine that Mother’s Day carries the same weight and baggage for many of you. I think it is probably true that we think that other families have these perfect relationships that are like TV commercials, or Hallmark cards, or Facebook posts, when everyone’s reality is much more complicated. I hope you can find a little bit of peace this year, knowing you aren’t alone in that.

So at brunch on Sunday, I will toast all of you. Happy Mother’s Day.