The irony of having the magazine live, is I am having major writer’s block. And just in a weird funk.
I’m pushing through though.
I’m also having some weird anxiety about Mother’s Day. I think the card companies thrive off of that. To be honest I really don’t care much about the day. Mothers should be celebrated, honored, loved everyday.
What a sacrifice. I am thinking/ speaking of my own mom now.
I guess growing up I never really got it. Everything she did for me.
Since becoming a mother, I have had many, many humbling moments that my mom did this for me.
Poopie diapers, throw up, spit up, more poop, sick days, sleepless nights, midnight calls the the doctor, midnight runs to Walgreens, setting appointments, sitting for hours in the doctors’ office, haircuts, feeding, figuring out insurance stuff.
(I love you, Mommy).
Motherhood isn’t everything I thought I’d be, it’s more.
And it also came with a lot of surprises. Some welcome surprises, and some earth-shattering ones.
This weekend I have to say holding this sweet boy in my arms satisfies that ache on some level to mother a child in the here and now.
But the anxiety is probably from just not wanting to face yet another day that reminds me of her death, and being gone. Something that has been resting deep in my soul today is to focus on things to be thankful for. I am sure that is just God telling me to remember what I do have!
And I need that.
On my very first Mother’s Day Jenna was alive, and in the NICU. My heart was SOARING. She was well enough for Pete and I to slip away to church that Sunday for an hour or so. Of course being gone for two minutes from the incubator is torture, but I remember just beaming with so much pride.
I was a mother.
I sat next to my grandmother. She didn’t say a word, but she took my hand. She slipped a fuchsia stoned-ring off her hand (ruby? I really have no idea, but I think she knew it was Jenna’s ‘color’) and slipped it onto my hand.
She smiled and somehow that Mother’s Day I felt so validated.
Even if all we have now is memories of her, they are still ours. Forever.