Forget-me-nots and pretty pansies in pint-sized cardboard boxes sit in large trays on the foyer tables at church on Mother’s Day. They’re there for the mamas to scoop up and take home, bright little bits of life to say to weary young mothers that they’re valued and to older mamas that their steady acts of great love have not been forgotten. These tiny reminders aren’t frivolous. They’re powerful symbols of appreciation from our chosen community, and they bolster our tired spirits with their fragile joy.
And that’s why, for years, those flowers destroyed me.
They broke me apart into tiny pieces. They made my stomach clench. And they pulled my grief, loneliness, and longing right to the surface, like an oil slick on water.
I didn’t go to church on Mother’s Day in 1998. After losing my third baby to miscarriage and wondering whether I’d ever join the ranks of blissful mamas around me, I just couldn’t take it. The celebrations. The kind words. The sympathy. And especially the flowers. I, quite literally, couldn’t take the flowers.
Oh, I was offered flowers in the previous years. Out of great compassion, I was offered flowers by my pastors and my friends and the sweet old ladies who hurt to watch me hurt. No one in my church full of loving people wanted me to feel left out. “You can take some flowers, too,” they’d say on Mother’s Days. “We want you to have them.” And they did. They really did. But I couldn’t take them even though I knew that it would make everyone else feel better. Because what would I do with these flowers once I had them? These happy pansies? These forget-me-nots? What could I do? Plant them at home in our yard? What if the flowers lived and were a constant reminder of what I’d lost? Or what if the flowers died and reminded me that I failed keep beautiful things alive?
No. Taking the flowers wasn’t an option.
When I was a child, Mother’s Day was easy. It was about my mom. And homemade cards. And, when I was 8 years old, it was about baking her a very moist cake all by myself with 3 cups of oil because I wasn’t good at recipes yet and “1/3 cup” was just too confusing.
Now that I’m a mom, Mother’s Day is… well, it’s complicated. It’s about my mom. It’s about Greg’s mom. It’s about me.
These days, Mother’s Day is about making sure we acknowledge our mamas, because there’s nothing like becoming a parent yourself to convince you that mamas can feel underappreciated and that our mamas, though no longer in the trenches with little ones at home, deserve our thanks for raising us to be self-sufficient enough to pay for our own counseling. (Good job, our mamas!)
These days, Mother’s Day is about trying hard to meet all the mamas’ expectations while we all pretend not to have any expectations at all.
These days, Mother’s Day is about meeting my kids’ needs. Most particularly, that I stay in bed and pretend to be asleep, and not get up no matter how badly I have to pee because I know that the second I try to run for the potty, my kids will arrive with my annual breakfast-in-bed and they will be devastated that I’m awake already. I will singlehandedly ruin their Mother’s Day and we cannot have that because everyone knows there’s no crying on Mother’s Day.
And these days, Mother’s Day is about looking at all of the experiences we have as women, from ruining cakes to longing for forget-me-nots to juggling Mom’s Day with my kids and my moms and my grandmoms… and recognizing that Mother’s Day is as complex, as multifaceted, as joyful and as sad, as it is to be a mother. That is, Mother’s Day is full of celebration, and Mother’s Day is full of desolation, and Mother’s Day is about learning to come to terms with being a Both/And kind of a woman.
We mamas – we have so very many experiences on Mother’s Day. And they are as different as we are. As different as our stories. As different as our memories.
For some of us, Mother’s Day is filled to brim with gratitude. We feel honored and cherished. Valued and pursued. And we leave the day with a sigh of pleasure and fulfillment.
But for some of us, Mother’s Day carries a measure of pain and of sorrow and of loss. And for us – for we mamas who are just a little bit lost – it’s important to remember that we don’t walk this road alone.
Today is the day after Mother’s Day. A day as complicated and as simple as yesterday was. A day that’s a mix of things over which we’ll rejoice… and things over which we shall tear out our hair.
And to all of us, I say,
Happy Day After Mother’s Day!
Happy Day After Mother’s Day, mamas and mamas-to-be!
If you rejoiced yesterday with wild abandon, appreciated and celebrated by everyone around you… or if yesterday was dark and lonely… or if yesterday was a mix, a jumble, a tangled ball of yarn that’s impossible to unravel… I want you to know, you’re not alone.
You’re amazing. Whether or not you could take the flowers, you’re amazing.
And today is the first day of an entire new year.
Happy HAPPY Day After Mother’s Day!
With love,
Beth
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P.S. I wrote this piece for the mamas at my local Mothers of Preschoolers group.
I was incredibly honored this year to be the mentor mom for the team that leads the group. The “mentor mom” role was new to me. When they asked me to do it, I balked. Mentor other moms?! Then I laughed. Then I asked the askers, “But doesn’t a mentor mom need to know what she’s doing? Because I am a total screw-up, you guys, and I’m not very good at pretending like I have it all together.”
They said, “Perfect!” And that’s when I knew we were going to be great together.
So this year, I got to hang out with a lot of moms who are way cooler, way younger, way taller and way skinnier than me, and they never made me pretend like I knew what I was doing. Instead, I spent the year sitting with these mamas, in awe of their strength, wisdom, perseverance and endurance, and I got to tell them that they’ll sleep again someday. Not that I’m sleeping; just that I hear it’s possible we’ll sleep again, and I’m all about sharing hope.
I told these mamas that they’re doing a great job.
I told them to give themselves a break.
I told them not judge themselves too harshly.
I told them the truth as I understand it, which is that there are lots of different, right ways to raise kids and to engage God, and that trusting their mama gut is good.
I wrote this piece for my local Mothers of Preschoolers group, which meets today, but I wanted to share it with you, too. Because I feel the same way about you – this awe that you let me into your life with my imperfections and inconsistencies and brokenness and that you still let me tell you the best truths I know.
And so, dear mamas on the Day After Mother’s Day, how was it? How was your Mother’s Day?
Really really. How was your Mother’s Day?
Was it happy? Was it sad? Was it crazy? Was it mad?
Do tell.
With still more love,
Beth
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65 responses to “Happy Day After Mother’s Day!”
Thanks so much for writing this Beth, I had a miscarriage & my due date would have been around Mother’s Day. I have 2 gorgeous boys, but the pain of miscarriage doesn’t go away, thanks for sharing your experience xo
Mothers day…. Oh where to begin. I am a single parent in every sense of the word. I have no ex to take the kids every other weekend. On most days this arrangement is great as my ex once said; I like the kids more then him. But Mothers day is tough. I have no one to get me a present which my daughter noticed this year. 6 year olds can be perceptive. She told me that she was sad that I wouldn’t get presents on Mothers day because it is a good day for moms to get presents. My kids are too young for breakfast in bed, and there internal clock is always set for 6:30. So I am learning to adjust to the fact that my Mothers day wont look like most moms. But I am also learning to celebrate the little victories. This year those little victories looked like:
-cuddling in bed before my kids hunger got me up to get breakfast.
-my kids being able to play on the playground without me hovering over them.
-having to play referee ( my kids just started the daily arguing hooray!)
-being able to see family I haven’t seen in a long time.
This Mothers day I chose to be thankful for my kids even in the hard times. That in the struggles and mess in life there is beauty. And to hold on tightly to that on the days when it is too much and bed time cant come quick enough.
This year, my mother’s day wasn’t about me. I dropped my daughter off at my in-laws’ and went hiking with my own mother, then out to dinner with her and my grandmother. It was a quiet day.
Last year, my mother’s day wasn’t about me. I was eight months pregnant and my husband told me I couldn’t celebrate mother’s day until I was “actually a mother,” even though this year he did nothing for me, too.
Two years ago, I went out to a movie with my mother and grandmother, and afterwards I got the call I had been dreading: I had, indeed, miscarried my first pregnancy. That day I couldn’t face church. I couldn’t face my friends at church, the vast majority of whom were already mothers. That day my grandmother told me that was too bad, but I would just have to deal with it like most women did…
Mother’s day hasn’t really been all that fantastic yet. Maybe next year.
Mother’s Day sucks big time. Most of the year I can forget that I have no husband, no boyfriend, no children and that I am now too old for all of the above. I can be okay because there is no other choice. But Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day are full of giant, sucky, inadequate feelings. I quit going to church on those days because it was just too hard. I finally quit going to church all together because being invisible at church is the worst. When I hear all of the “God gives these children to you” and “God has blessed me with such a great husband” statements what I hear is that God doesn’t choose to give me blessings. The things I crave most He has not given me. Why does God not love me enough to send me a husband here on earth to love me? Why did He not send me children? What is wrong with me? Why did I have faith all through my youth that He would send these things if only I were faithful and trusted? Now I’m just screwed.
So I spent the morning in tears as I ran all of the errands to put together the family celebration (because I’m the only one not a mother). While my sister and girlfriends were getting breakfast in bed and sweet handmade cards, I was fighting the crowds to pick up a special desert and dinner for everyone. I sucked it up and smiled all through the family get-together and then came home alone. Because Mother’s Day sucks and there is no way around it.
Here’s to the rest of the year.
Mother’s day. I cooked three meals. Prepared several snacks. Vacuumed the dog hair off the floor and ran an errand to Target.
But then my 7 year old gave me a picture filled with words that describe me. Words such as giving, playful, forgetful, amazing and brave.
I know I’m doing good here. Everything’s going to be alright.
Oh, Beth, thank you as always for a new perspective. I never read one of your posts without both laughing and crying.
Mother’s Day for me is always so joyful and also so very sad, and just a little bit frightening. I feel so tremendously grateful for my brood and wonder daily how I will ever deserve the gift that the six of them are(even when I’m yelling for them to pick up their stinky socks).
At the same time, I always know that my mother did not feel so blessed. I know because she told us, and the longer I have children the more distant she and I become because we simply can not understand each other’s lives.
So on Mother’s Day I laugh with my kids while I envy them, and I cry alone because I miss the Mother I wish I had had.
Sending love to you, Denise. What a hard thing to have to bear. What a blessing you get to love your kids… and that you know how.
xoxo
Thanks for saying this. Thank you.
Thank you for asking about how Mother’s Day was, Beth, and for actually caring about the answer!
My Mother’s Day was complicated and bittersweet, and I appreciate the opportunity to share it, because most of the time I keep this stuff to myself…
I am the very grateful and very happy mama of two sweet little girls who told me that they loved me, wrote me little handmade cards, and even did a little dance to celebrate me yesterday. My heart swells to bursting when I think of their love, and I’m certain that I’m not worthy of it.
And then I remind myself that this is what little ones think of their mamas – we’re queens, heros, superstars, perfectly loveable in every way. And that’s when the crushing pain floods in, because I used to feel that way about my mama, too, and now we’re estranged.
So on Mother’s Day, while I’m thinking happy, thankful thoughts about my littles ones and also feeling like complete crud because I know that my mom’s Mother’s Day is tainted with sadness because of me. Yes, she has a role to play — she could reach out any other day of the year, and chooses not to, but on this day in particular, I feel like all the responsibility is mine and that I am ruining everything. The backstory is, as you might imagine, complicated and sad, and although I wouldn’t have chosen this path, I also wouldn’t take back any of the decisions I’ve made which have led me to where I am now.
But on Mother’s Day, I feel like I don’t deserve to be sad, since so many of my mama-sisters out there are mourning the deaths of their cherished mothers, and here I am, turning my back on my live-and-well mom. And I feel extra, super-duper unworthy of all the love I receive from my kids, my husband, and my in-laws.
Complicated. Bittersweet. Thankful. Regretful. Happy. Sad. Reassured to know that although I feel alone in my particular circumstance, there are other mamas struggling with their own complicated circumstances, and that’s we’re not so alone after all.
I’m so sorry you and your mama are estranged, Lynn. Sometimes that’s the healthiest choice, but I know it comes with deep grief.
Thing is… you ARE worthy of love. True story. I’m so glad you have people in your life who show that to you.
xo,
Beth
Lynn and Beth,
This question of worthiness, it lays heavy on my heart when people say they do not feel worthy. Because I hear so many things at church about how we are not worthy, and we do not deserve, God’s love but yet He gives it to us through His grace. And because I grew up with a mother who does not know how to love in the healthiest ways, I spent a lot of my life feeling like I needed to earn love.
But I think that Beth, you are so absolutely right. I call BS on the not being worthy UNTIL grace. We are always worthy before during and after grace. Lynn, the truth is you ARE worthy of love. Unconditionally, no matter what. You didn’t start out unworthy and somehow earn it. You ARE worthy. From the get go. Always.
Thanks, Beth, for the reminder.
What can I say but YES, Mother’s Day is a loaded, bi-polar, uncomfortable day. I relate to the dismal years that you had for similar reasons. And now that I have 4 children I can say that it is just another day of work. Special needs kids don’t get mother’s day. Hubby doesn’t get most holiday’s so I just prepare for being ignored and then cope as best as I can. But it is misery to listen to everyone else glow about being adored and cherished. Wish I had that but I don’t and it is hard to not be bitter and overwhelmed with lost dreams.
I pray that for you there will come a cherished Mothers’ Day–one where you feel cherished. Not too long ago, I was spending a resentful Mothers’ Day. I was sitting there thinking, “I wish “Mothers’ Day” lasted more than 1 hour!” It just felt like another day of work for me with the baby and the laundry and the dishes…
This year as we celebrated Mothers’ Day, I was thinking about that other one and my heart was soothed. My perspective had changed and I was able to let go of that pain. We will probably always only celebrate it in small ways, but I hope that I have learned and grown from this year’s perspective.
Oh, the pain of Mother’s Day. Thank You for all hurting women that you acknowledged that. I spent a lot of years taking home my 4-inch plant and wonder why Gid was making me wait so long to fulfill the only dream I had ever had…that of a husband and a family. When my first Mother’s Day finally came, with my ready made family ages 10, 15 & 16, I started they day with such happiness of longing fulfilled. But I spent most of it in deep, disappointed sobs. I married into a family full of grief. Mother’s day for my husband and children made them relive the loss of their wife and mom worse than any day of the year. I understood, and loved them, so I hurt for them. And hurt for me, because the day represented so much for me. There were bright moments from my youngest…like the card that said “Roses are Red, Violets are blue, you may not be my mom but I still love you.” And after about 6 years I finally made it through a Mother’s Day without crying. I’ve come to terms with it all now. My husband is finally at a place he can express his appreciation for all the mom things I do, my youngest always calls or texts (Not bad for a 21-year-old guy!) and though the two older ones have never acknowledged the day, they find ways, not words, on the other 364 day of the year to let me know they appreciate me in there lives.
Yes, Beth, thank goodness for the day after Mother’s Day. For the relief it brings to hurting women everywhere.
Mothers day yesterday was pretty good actually. It wad today, the day after mothers day that had me worrying and fretting and crying over a conversation my preschool sons teacher had with me today over his behavior and them not being able to handle him. She recommended he be evaluated for a behavior disorder and said unless his behavior can be gotten under control over the summer, he won’t be able to be in this preschool program next year. It broke my heart and am now drowning my sorrows in Starbucks ice cream while wondering what in the world we should do next and wondering if this could be our fault somehow.
By the way, this was a beautifully written post. I love your honesty. I love your stories. I can relate to the feelings of wondering when/if you’ll become a mommy. It took us 9 months to conceive our son, and I had an ectopic pregnancy and then a miscarriage between my son and daughter. Those were difficult times but make me that much more grateful for my children, no matter what happens on this journey.
Thanks for the beautiful post! And happy belated mothers day to you!
Happy, sad, crazy, mad. Yes, to all of the above. From crazy middle of the night nursing issues to arriving at my parents for dinner only to find out we’d all miscommunicated (which is totally a word even though it has a red squiggly line under it) and my mother was upset with me to trying to get a family picture and having my boys in tears because their shirts were wet. Oy!
It wasn’t a particularly memorable day, but it was a day with my family. Which is what life is made up of I guess!
Happy, sad, crazy, mad. Yes. Krista, you already know my heart is with you with your two new babies and two big kids to watch, too.
Grace and Peace!
B
Beth,
Thank you for your candor and always making me think on other’s points of views. Its nice to get something to ponder. Hugs to you and your family.
My Mother’s day was wonderful….until my 5 year old daughter got a broken toe and needed 8 stitches, had to be put under to do the stitches and it was really nerve wracking. Our first trip to the er so far. 🙁
AH! NO! Brandi, I’ve so been there! I’m sorry… that’s just the worst.
Sending hugs right back to you, and happy, happy day AFTER Mother’s Day. It’s over, friend! On to the healing!
x,
B
Reading the comments, and hearing about women’s struggles with fertility, puts my Mothers Day in a different light. I have two boys, 11 and 7. I am going through a divorce and, after a big move, have been raising them by myself for the last 8 months for the first time, states away from their dad and my family who were my support. Needless to say, working full time and running the household and helping them adjust, etc. has plain worn me out emotionally and physically.
Yesterday, my sister made sure the kids did something for me. And they were a little nicer than usual. But I had mixed emotions about this mothering thing and the spirit of celebration. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed. They called the mothers up to the altar at church and I was embarrassed at the stupid jeans and tshirt I barely pulled together amidst all the smartly dressed ladies. Poor me. Now I read these comments and think how my life would be different if I hadn’t been able to bear children. Would it have been easier? Maybe a little. Would I get sleep? Yes. Would I have to clean pee sheets on a daily basis? No. Would I have freedom to do things I enjoy? Yes.
But I wouldn’t be me.
Thank you, other moms, for making me see the blessing in front of me. For edging me away from my pity party and toward gratitude.
Thank you for this, Anne. Thank you for sharing your journey. And thank you for sharing the choice to be grateful when you’re probably pulling from an emotional bucket that looks pretty empty. What a beautiful gift to give the other mamas here who’ve share their stories.
Just amazing.
Sending lots of love your way, and heart-felt wishes for moments of respite.
xoxo,
Beth
Dear Anne
From one single mother to another, you will make it! Your children will be stronger for it and say to you in the end, “without you Mom, I would not be where I am today and I hope to someday find a woman as strong as you to be my wife.” (note – if my boys turned out homosexual, that would be fine too.) Society constructs us as females to think that we need to have a partner in life in order to raise our children. My sister and I argue because my children do not have father in their lives. My marriage was full of domestic violence and I am in no hurry to go find a male just because my sister thinks they need a father in the house. There are other positive male role figures in our everyday life’s journey. They will appear out of no where and become part of your child’s life in a positive way. It is exhausting to be mother, father, taxi driver, nanny, maid, cook, butler, etc, etc,, I know and there are days when you want to crawl in bed and just stay there. It’s a good thing to take a day off and if the house gets a little messy, oh well… There are bigger fish to fry. If something gets spilled on the carpet, oh well, it is just carpet. I started to teach my boys early how to cook for themselves so I could sleep in. Eventually my oldest at 12yrs, prided himself in making Mom’s coffee just right and bringing it to me in bed. You will find you give them so much empowerment and independence that they will rise to every occasion and become great men who can stand on their feet and cook for themselves, do their own laundary, and more importantly, learn at a very young age – (12 – 13) how to use coupons and make food stamps last. My boys are now 20 and 15 and I have an additional foster son who is 14. My foster son is learning fast how to cook, do his laundary, shop thriftly, and plan his time. I see how much my boys know now because of our situation and what wonderful young men they are. My 15 yr old now prides himself on making the food stamps last all month.
When you feel like all is lost and you just can’t do it anymore, give your boys extra hugs and you will find strength in them. My boys are my very best friends who I can tell anything too and they tell me everything too! It is special. I know that because I can make it, that they know that they have my strength in them and together as a family, even if the house isn’t perfect, we can depend on each other for love, support, and most important, unlimitless acceptance of each other not matter the situation.
Hang in there and feel free to email me anytime. You are a survivor and God gave you these boys because he wants you to raise them for Him! That is our job as a mother. I tell my boys that sometimes I get cranky when they make mistakes because they are God’s children and I have a huge responsibility to raise them right.
Remember, God picked you! No body else, just You! How special you are.
God Bless You
Lisa
I can completely relate to your pre-mom days of Mother’s Day. I used to not go to church, or anywhere, on Mother’s Day if I could avoid it. I suffered two miscarriages, two failed IVF treatments, and countless years of wondering what I had done so wrong that God would not grant me my heart’s desire of becoming a mom. But what I didn’t know is that He had much bigger plans for my mother’s heart, and blessed me with adoption. We share a similar story, you and I, except I have still not been able to conceive a child. But I love my three little blessings, and they mean the world to me! I posted about my Mother’s Day on my blog – come check it out. http://tripleadoption.blogspot.com/
Hooray, Meegan! Thank you for sharing the adoption perspective here. As you know, the grace of adoption – the bitter and the sweet – is very close to my mama heart. Can’t wait to read what you wrote.
B
By the way, my friend Brenda in Post Falls pointed your blog out to me a while back. I love reading your posts. You seem to be able to say what I feel most days!
So well written. Part of what I love about your blog is that it’s such a clear picture of what your heart is feeling. And my heart likes what your heart thinks. You inspire me to keep struggling, to keep asking questions, and mostly to just keep going, enjoying the ride rather than the destination.
My yesterday was good. It started out looking rather bleak, with a car that wouldn’t go into gear and no sure answer in sight, and ended with a good dinner on the kitchen floor with our little one throwing beans and rice with joyous abandon.
And even as we have our little one, I still hurt for the one we lost in March. I know things happen for a reason (and deep, deep, deep down, I knew something was wrong before we truly lost that one) but it still hurts. It hurts that we didn’t get to hear the heartbeat (I was easily supposed to be 9 weeks and only measured 5) and that all I have for a memory is the fuzzy little sonogram picture that I have no idea what to do with. What do you do with that? Putting it in a box feels wrong. My husband feels weird having it out for others to see. So for now, it sits in my drawer – a reminder of something lost but not forgotten. Since we decided to wait to spread the good news, I felt like I had no one to really share the bad with. While I am ever so grateful that we have our Tarbear – who I was told I would never have at all – I feel selfish enough to ask why it wasn’t our time for a second one. And Mother’s Day kind of dragged all that up again. So it was a rough day emotionally on top of the actual stresses of not having a working car.
Thanks to my google aptitude and my husband’s mechanical genius, we were able to get the car fixed and realized that we could have saved ourselves a ton in past years if we had done this in the first place. Plus dinner was great. And it only took 2 baths to get my daughter to stop smelling like a pinto bean (or rather a pinto bean soaked in baby soap). So it all worked out okay in the end. But the middle was definitely rather muddled.
Kayla, thank you thank you for sharing this story.
And for being so utterly honest about the ups and downs of the day.
And for telling us that you don’t know where to put that ultrasound picture.
Because yes. Yes, friend, yes. This is the reality of what many, many mamas faced yesterday. And now maybe some of them know they’re not alone.
xoxo,
B
This is beautiful. And painful. I struggle with mothers day on the opposite end of things. I have two wonderful boys who give me love and hugs and kisses. But I have such an incredibly fractured relationship with my mother and most years Mothers Day feels like a finger shaking in my face telling me that I SHOULD feel a certain way. Both are hard in their own way, I think.
YES, Rea. I hear this so, so much. I have family members who had truly horrific things happen to them in their childhood homes, and Mother’s Day is just awful for them as they navigate the pain of moms who were either intentionally absent or there but mean.
Thank you for giving voice to this side, and I’m so glad that you have your boys.
xoxo,
B
My mother’s day was rough. Celebrated with my mom, grandmother, and two aunts and sister-in-law. It was great to see them but I couldn’t wait to be home and be away from anything and everything that reminded me that I wasn’t a mom. I have wanted to be a mom as long as I can remember. I gravitated to moms with babies, and not kids my age, when I grew up. I am now a nanny, because it is the next best thing to being a mom. I am 34 and a little over a year ago, I lost my fertility. It has left me destroyed and broken-hearted. I feel like motherhood may never happen for me. I am lucky that I get to love and mother others’ children, but it’s not the same. I want to pack school lunches, and take my children to the Grand Canyon, and put money under their pillows for their lost teeth. These are the things I think about on Mother’s Day. I wonder if because I don’t have children, if I’ll always be waiting for my life to start? Because I can’t birth a baby, will I ever know what it means to be fully woman? These are the things I think about when everyone around me is honoring their moms or being honored for being a mother themselves. I am an aunt, and it is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Through my intense grief I am experiencing and my pain and sadness, I am so grateful for the opportunity to have a nephew to love and a little baby girl that I nanny for. They are helping me heal. Happy day after to you Beth, and thank you for your always wonderful stories!
Penny Layne
Miss Penny Layne,
I wept reading your story.
THANK YOU for commenting here even in the middle of your pain. What a brave thing to do, showing your heart while it’s hurting.
Sending you thoughts and prayers and love and the knowledge that others hurt for your hurt,
B
This is beautiful, Beth. Thank you. This Mother’s Day was happy and fun with my wonderful husband and three boys. But Mother’s Day has not always been that way for me. Before God gave me the children in my arms, He chose to take unborn children from my womb. Two times for sure, but there were three other times that I suspected an early miscarriage. I’m sure you remember all too well the desolation of the heart of a woman who feels like her body cannot nurture life, so I won’t try to describe it here. And many, many years before those post-miscarriage Mother’s Days, I had years of painful Mother’s Days as a child when I tried oh-so-very hard not to think about the mother who had died when I was 5 years old, because thinking about her would start the tears flowing, and once they started flowing, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop them. But the grace of God carried me through all the Mother’s Days of my childhood and beyond to this year, when I feel lavishly blessed.
Blessings to you~
Sharon
Oh, Sharon, my heart aches for 5-year-old you and for all the little boys and girls who KNOW the loss of a parent too young. I am so very glad that you have little ones to hold now to carry you through the Mother’s Days, because it’s good to remember that life isn’t just desolation… there’s grand consolation for the broken-hearted, too. Life is so VERY VERY both/and, isn’t it?
Sending love, Sharon.
B
Life certainly is very both/and, but my constant consolation is that heaven will not be both/and. Heaven will be ONLY. Only joyous. Only marvelous. Only glorious. Just a few days ago I read these verses from 2 Corinthians 4:16-18: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look on at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” My eyes kept going back to those words “light affliction” and “weight of glory.” To think that all the sufferings of my life piled together are utterly insignificant compared to the heavy glory that awaits me in heaven is a bit more than I can wrap my mind around. But I believe it–oh, how I believe it! And I long for that day!
Yes. This is so, so good. Our church has always tried to be so respectful of ALL the different kinds of pain Mother’s Day brings up, but it’s just so complicated and fraught with expectation. Mother’s Day is good, but so is the day after.
Complicated and fraught with expectation. Amen, sister.
And Mother’s Day in my neck of the woods these days IS good. I spent mine with a vomiting kiddo, and, honestly, since the road to motherhood was a long one for me, I can say I was honored to hold his bucket and there was no where else I wanted to be.
And also, thank God that Mother’s Day only comes once/year! 😉
Thanks, Suzanne.
Love this post.
My Mother-in-law and I have had a slightly complicated relationship over our many years together, but one single moment is forever stored in my mind and will always remind me that she is a good woman and loves me. Mother’s Day 2004, my husband and I attended mass with his parents who knew we were struggling, really, really heart-breakingly struggling with infertility. As we were leaving, a very well-intentioned man handed me one of those flowers intended for all of the mothers. I froze. I couldn’t make me hand move to give it back to him or my mouth say the words, “I’m not a mother.” My mil quickly stepped behind me and whispered in my ear, “Take the flower. You ARE a mother, you’re just still waiting for your baby.”
Thankfuly that fall I was blessed to conceive our big boy and by Mother’s Day 2005 I accepted my little cardboard carton flower with a big pregnant belly. Every year since, when I take my little impatien home, I think of Judy’s kind, encouraging words, call her and say, “Happy Mother’s Day. I love you.”
“Take the flower. You ARE a mother, you’re just still waiting for your baby.”
I LOVE this, Beth. Thank you for sharing. And thank you for sharing they way you *continue* to grasp onto such a kind, gracious moment. This is just a gorgeous, human, familiar, loving story.
Yes, yesterday was a tangled mess as I celebrated my mom, my grandmother and my sister, worked through the mess of feelings of just moving home from South Africa so I can adopt my future daughter, having to leave her behind and not knowing how to be or how to do or what to say.
Thanks for sharing.
GARG! I’ve done this, Amanda. Met my two kiddos from Guatemala several months before I could bring them home. “Mess of feelings” is an excellent description.
Sending you lots of love as you navigate your way to being your sweet girl’s mama.
Yay for MOPS! Even though I am expecting my fifth at the moment, with my oldest being nine and more than half of the ladies in the group I coordinated this last year being so much younger and with just one or two, I am feeling more mentorish age in the group these days. 🙂
Isn’t “mentor” such a kind way of telling us we’re old? 😉
I’m very thankful I found you. 🙂
My mother’s day was odd. My middle son was very sick, so we decided to celebrate next weekend. But then my husband worked all night, and came home at 8 to serve me breakfast in bed (which was the FIRST time that has ever happened in 25 years of marriage!) but I was up till 3 and just wanted to sleep. McDonald’s biscuits and gravy was quite yummy, though, and it was nice being able to cuddle up to him and sleep a few more hours after breakfast. He works a lot since be bought a store 18 months ago, so these times are too few but very precious.
I had no idea there was a “no crying on mother’s day rule”! Broke that one a few times. I guess I just felt like I could be doing such a better job at mothering – and ever at the forefront is that my boys no longer believe in God – which always makes Sundays (and Saturday nights, ’cause that’s when we go to church) teary. I’m quite tired of crying. I seem to do it every morning as I read and pray. But that’s OK. I get it over with right away!
I got to talk to my mama, who lives 3 states away, and she sounded really good! She’s been fighting an infection in her knee, and has to have it checked every six weeks. Amputation has been postponed for six more weeks, praise God. But she’s OK with it – and has such a good attitude and is trusting God. I need to be more like her! I was also blessed with a beautiful bouquet of tulips from my hubby, who just didn’t want to wait until next weekend! And I spent the afternoon with my two best friends at the college graduation of one of their oldest, and looked at pictures of this boy who is now a man, watching him grow, and realizing that in three short years we’ll be doing the same for my first-born. And now more tears, darn it! At the same time, my middle son graduates from high school and my baby girl will be in high school – and I just wonder where the time went?
So I pray, I cry, and I try to remain hopeful as I “pray them back”, but this patience stuff really stinks sometimes. But what soothing salve to my heart to read your words, and the words of so many others who write so very well what is on their hearts, and I just thank Him again for this great cloud of cyber witnesses I am surrounded with! Happy day after mother’s day to you, too!
Thank you for sharing your story here, Georgi. What a full, full day to carry as a mama.
“this patience stuff really stinks sometimes”
This. Yes. Isn’t patience the WORST? Which is why I’m so very grateful that we mamas can walk through it together. ‘Cause, MAN, walking life alone is as impossible a thing as I can imagine.
Sending you buckets of love, Georgi.
xoxo,
B
Beautiful. I love this. I especially love the part about making sure not to ruin the kids’ Mother’s Day. My girls were so upset yesterday when they got back home with breakfast and found me awake and drinking coffee. Ooops. My bad.
They served me on a tray on the couch. It was kind of the same. Next year I will totally stay in bed! 😉
http://www.thedoseofreality.com/2012/05/14/terms-of-endearment/
EXACTLY! I’ve been caught one too many times on the potty. Or texting Greg… “seriously need coffee now.” 😉
I bet Breakfast on Couch is WAY less messy. I wonder if I could convince my kids…
😉
This is lovely, and made me cry. I’ve experienced four miscarriages and totally relate to what you shared at the start of the post. And I’m absolutely sure you are a brilliant mentor to those young mamas! Thank you, as always, for your wonderful words, and Happy Day After Mother’s Day! xo
Happy Day After Mother’s Day to you, Fiona, and blessings as a mama.
Always,
B