Mother’s Day
There was a grief that snuck up on me this Mother’s Day. I went to bed a little disappointed by someone’s words, but told myself to let it go and sleep on it, surely, I’d be better by morning. Overnight I had terrible dreams. In them I was distraught and broken, scrambling around my home after my partner had left briefly, stuffing bags and grabbing my pillow as fast as I could before his return. I stashed them in the back of my car, prepared at a moment’s notice. In my head I had rushed thoughts of what anger I’d be met with, the worst consequences that may happen, and intense fear for my kids as they slept. My mother was in on the plan, I just had to get to her house. I woke up and wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay awake to process the dream, or go back to sleep, gambling re-entry of the scene. I threw off my duvet and took a deep breath. It was a hiccup-y kind of breath. The one toddlers make after they’ve finally stopped wailing. I must have been crying in my sleep again.
I made my way to my deck, full of sunshine and birds, with my hot cup of coffee and book. This was where I’d recover. But to my confusion, I just felt like I needed to cry. Why? Redirecting my energy and thoughts, I started to send out intentional words to my favorite moms, wishing them a Happy Mother’s Day. Doing good for others always bring more joy, doesn’t it? That’s when my lifelong friend sent these words:
“The things you do – I could never. Solo camping. All the divorce shit. Navigating step-mom. Family things - when people just don’t get it. Talk about super mom. Don’t even with me!! Couldn’t do this job without you.”
And absolutely I couldn’t without her super-mom powers of her own. Then the tears came.
The grief snuck up on me. I wasn’t disappointed by words. I wasn’t having a random nightmare. I wasn’t as fine as I pretended to be waking up with morning without my kids. I am grieving.
Sure, it’s a laughable, Hallmark holiday, and everyone knows it. Person-appreciation should happen everyday, not just on a 24 hour holiday full of expectation and disappointment, wrapped up in a bow of perpetual stress while you fake relaxation through hypervigilant gritted teeth. It’s the running joke: moms just want to be left alone on Mother’s Day. I can identify with that on any given Wednesday evening when I feel like I just can’t - just as I want to feel appreciated on any given day, not just the momentous “Mother’s Day”. Today felt different. There were two Mother’s Days I asked to see my kids and was told no. This morning I woke up to a quiet empty home, after not having my kids with me over the last nine nights. All that innate, feminine love and caretaking welling up inside with no where to pour it out.
I’m not looking for pity here, it’s never well received by me, feeling sorry does no one good. My kids will soon be here for the afternoon, and I am looking forward to our day. It’s just a very different world to live in. A world I never wished for. Full of complicated emotions and struggle. Where the kids are on their own if they want to do something special for mom, when there’s not another parent in the household to help. Where I wake up on holidays alone. In a world where there are still plenty of people who do not understand these dynamics or the added work it takes. That fifty percent life. I still grieve the life that died. The one that I promised my unborn babies still growing in my womb. So many better, amazing things have come to me, and my children, in it’s place that I am grateful for: I love who I am, the people and the opportunities that have been given to me and my kids are the most emotionally intelligent kids I’ve ever met, also learning how to take tough knocks and get back up again. But on mornings like this, I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have the traditional life I lost. So I grieved, and let it go.
To the Moms who feel alone in their hearts and thoughts this Mother’s Day, I see you and want to remind you: you are not lacking, you are not alone, you are still amazing and strong. Be gentle on each other and yourselves this Mother’s Day. Who cares that it’s a Hallmark holiday? Who cares about buying the cards and hosting the brunches? It’s not a show or competition. And not every mother wants to be left alone. Moms just want to feel seen for all that they resiliently carry with pride, every single day. Appreciate her every day. Celebrate her a little today.