Because Mother’s Day wasn’t already complicated
Mother’s Day has been strangely bittersweet for as long as I can remember. The woman who carried me in her heart and in her belly for nine months and then spent the next 22 months loving me in her arms and fighting to stay here on earth with me – she’s been my Angel Mom since May 21, 1984. She’s now loving me from somewhere else.
Not long after she lost her battle with leukemia, I met my second mom, the woman who cleaned my scrapes, wiped my tears, helped me with homework and dealt with me as an angsty teenager, the woman who sat behind me on my wedding day.
I celebrate them both. I always have, and I always will. One celebration makes me angry and sad for the woman I never knew but blindly love; one celebration makes me give thanks for the wonderful woman I know and love.
I’ve been blessed with two women who love me no matter what. They are amazing for what they’ve done and for what they continue to do in my life. One continues to teach me that each day on earth is a gift to never take for granted. I can’t hear her voice, but I know her legacy. The other has taught me more than I could ever put into words and continues to give me new lessons all the time.
To my first mom, Debi, I love looking through your pictures and at the letter you wrote to me. I know that, even though I don’t know what your laugh sounds like, I’m going to hear your voice one day and know you’re my mom.
To my second mom, Louise, I am so thankful that you chose to be my mom and chose to stick by me and love me through all the good times and bad. Thank you for loving me.
Mother’s Day is complicated in my head, right? Now it’s even more muddled.
I’ve been just-barely-pregnant twice in the last year, long enough for those pregnancies to leave a lasting mark on my heart but not long enough for me to be among those traditionally celebrated today. I’d rather be rubbing my big, pregnant belly today, but instead I’m trying to decide what we’re going to do for our next cycle of trying to conceive the baby who will one day sit in my lap while I try to type on the computer, who will smother my face with slobbery kisses.
Happy Mother’s Day to those with simple celebrations. Happy Mother’s Day to those with complicated celebrations. I hope, for us all, that today is a beautiful one. After all, each day is a gift in itself.