May 11, 2015

Reflections on Mother's Day

I gave very little thought to Mother's Day this year. Such little thought that my card for my own mother has yet to be mailed. Honestly I prefer for it to mostly be just a normal day. Well, that's a lie - I mean, I'm more than willing to take advantage of Mile's offer for me to partake in some solo shopping, and am more than fine relinquishing all diaper changing for the day, but for the most part I don't like to make a big deal of the day. Everything I wrote last year still holds true. Every day I think of Cale. But that ache is a little more acute on Mother's Day, the emotions a little closer to the surface.

I still had a lovely day with my family - we went to church and then indulged in a breakfast and a half at our favorite breakfast joint (I ordered huevos avocados and we split the banana pecan french toast) and then I ditched the family for a trip to the outlets and grocery shopping (because going without kids actually is a treat).


One thing that stood out to me this year was the tenderness in which people seemed to handle the day. I think there is more of a socially acceptable acknowledgement of what Mother's Day means to different people. I'm glad the day is handled with such empathy, via social media or news outlets, and I hope it makes people feel a little less alone. I hope it makes people feel a little less afraid to share the grief that can be associated with Mother's Day. As Glennon Melton with Momastery said:

 You can’t fix a friend's grief, but that’s okay because grief isn’t supposed to be fixed. It’s not something we need to grab from each other. Grief is holy. Your friend doesn’t want it taken away from her. Sometimes a mama’s boundless grief is the only proof she has that she loved boundlessly. Great grief is the price of great love. So forget about making it better. Just call, or email and say: I am thinking of you. And of your baby. And I love you. And I’m so sorry. You are not alone.
That’s all, That’s all we can do. We don’t have to make it better. We just have to remember.


It's good advice to remember on Mother's Day, but great advice to remember always and I'm so grateful to those who remembered with me this year and hope that the day was as gentle as possible for those with some aching in their hearts.
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4 comments:

  1. It's interesting, I've come to realize just how many poor souls on my Facebook friends list loathe Mother's Day because they've lost their mother. They are my age. It's usually cancer. We've kinda formed a it's ok to be happy and bone wrenching horribly sad all at the same time on this, and all family based, holidays. We get each other. Mothers. Babies. All lost.

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  2. I'm always thinking of you. And of Cale. And of Finley, Mary and Miles. How lucky each of them are to have you and your boundless love. You are never alone. So many of us miss him with you, every day. Especially your sister. Love you, and love my sweet nephew.

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  3. I've run into a lot of people this past year who had an extra hard time with the day, even talking about how much Mother's Day cards suck. I love that from GDM. I'm glad you had some time for yourself and I hope you felt Cale's love for you as the best mama for him and his siblings.

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  4. I love your babies.

    I love being a mother to these babies of mine, but I just wish people would stop referring to my children as "your kids" and acknowledge one of them is in the urn on my dresser. Because I shouldn't have to correct my MIL (again) how I have three babies. bah.

    Your mother's day sounds delightful (relinquishing diaper duties? I didn't even get the day off on my birthday! lol).

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