Mother's Day Evolution

Did you have a nice Mother's Day?

I'd say mine was pretty good.  My kids were all (eventually) home and my husband prepared a delicious, home-cooked meal.  But it's different celebrating Mother's Day now, with kids coming and going, compared to when they were younger and Mother's Day was filled with sticky kisses and homemade cards.

Things were just a whole lot more simple then.

I miss those days. 

The Mother's Days when the only emotion du jour was joy.

And I know I'm not alone.  I see the Facebook posts celebrating such tremendous losses of mothers and grandmothers.  Of babies who were born straight into eternity.  Of children who are separated from mothers for all sorts of reasons.  Of those who wait with empty arms.  Of mothers who can't muster the expected energy for the day.

And I find myself in a little bit of each of those mothers.

But I also find myself celebrating with the mothers who are called to the task of mothering motherless children.

Many years ago--many much more idealistic years ago--my perspective on this type of mothering would have been focused solely on attempting to help soothe the loss in our kids' hurting hearts.  Thinking of ways to remember and honor the memory of our orphan children's birth mom would become a mantra for holidays, but especially for Mother's Day.

We were sooooo smart.

And sooooo naive.

Because while it's true that adopted children have memories of their birth moms (yes, even those kiddos adopted as infants will have--or at least create--those memories), not all of those memories will be good ones.  We never knew such fierce love could be entangled with so much anger.  That it could be possible to miss someone with your every waking breath and simultaneously hate the very mention of her name.  To refuse to allow any one to every replace her and yet to never allow her betrayal back in to your heart.  Leaving you completely and utterly alone.  Perpetually motherless.

And that was a surprise.

And it became more surprising as more unpleasant memories were oozed out of blistering sore places.

Why didn't my mother want me?
I wish she was here.
Why would my mother do those things to me?
I remember every single thing we did together.
Why would my mother allow those things to happen to me?
I sure miss her.
Why did she choose everything else over me?
No one will ever take her place.
Why didn't she stop the people who hurt me?
All I want is to just be with her again.

Happy Mother's Day indeed.