Motherhood

I’ve been thinking a lot about motherhood.  This is not surprising, given that yesterday was Mother’s Day.  Mother’s Day, like most holidays, is meant to be a celebration, a chance for us to shower our mothers with love and spend precious time with our children.  But what about all those who can’t be with their mothers or children on Mother’s Day?  The last few years especially, those people have been on my mind the most. 

A couple years ago, one of my best friends tragically lost her mom on Mother’s Day weekend.  It was the eve of a family wedding for me, so my mom was in town visiting from Florida.  She was asleep down the hall when I got a text from my friend telling me the news.  I remember waking my mom up that night and holding her tighter than I can ever remember, sobbing into her chest.  I cried for my friend who had lost her mom.  For her dad who had lost his partner.  For her daughter who had lost a grandmother.  I cried at the significance of it all.  The senselessness of it all.  The finality of it all.  I clutched my mom and thanked God one thousand times that she was beside me in that moment.  That I could hug her and kiss her and celebrate Mother’s Day with her. 

The next day, I stood next to my brother and sister-in-law while they said, “I do”.  I looked at all the moms in the congregation and felt all the joy of the moment, not taking a second for granted.  I breathed in and breathed out and watched my little boy walk down the aisle as a ring bearer.  It was such a happy day for my family, but I couldn’t shake the reminder of the loss my friend was feeling. 

In the last few years, more and more of my friends have struggled with fertility.  One of my best friends, who has been trying to get pregnant since shortly after Will was born, recently miscarried twins.  And my heart broke.  I prayed harder for those babies and for that friend than I think I’ve ever prayed for anything in my life.  I was angry.  I was sad.  But my feelings were nothing compared to that of my friend and her husband.  I thought about her all day yesterday. 

Motherhood is a complex thing.  You don’t have to have children to be a mom.  To me, being a mom is loving someone so much that you’re willing to put their needs above your own every single day.  You can do that for your own babies or for someone else’s.  Moms do that just as much when they’re expecting a baby as they do when they are physically holding and nurturing them (which is why I made sure to tell all my pregnant friends happy Mother’s Day yesterday).  Moms do this when they share the last bite of their favorite cookie with their kids, when they get up in the middle of the night to rock a sick baby, when they go through round after round of IVF, when they choose the hard road during delivery because it’s the safer road their child, when they choose to give their babies up in the hopes of the life they might have, when they choose to stay away from their kids during a two-month quarantine.  Moms do this every day. 

Some people might ask, “then why become a mom?”.  If motherhood means you must give so much of yourself every single day, then why do so many choose it?  I can’t even put into words an answer to that question.  It’s a feeling deep down in your heart that is worth fighting for.  Lucy looked at me today while I was rocking her and smiled her big toothy smile.  She picked her head up off my shoulder and looked into my eyes and her face just lit up.  In that moment, I thought to myself that there was nothing more beautiful or perfect in this whole world than my daughter.  I am her person.  She knows she is safe with me.  She knows she is cared for.  When I look at her, I know that, no matter what, a part of me lives on.  My children are the best of me.  A chance for me to give something good and pure to this world. 

So, to all the moms out there without children, don’t stop fighting.  I know what you’re fighting for, and it’s worth it.  You know what you’re fighting for, too, which is why you’re fighting so damn hard.  And to all the kids out there without moms, well, I have to believe you’ll be with them again someday.  And when you are, and you look in your mama’s eyes and smile your big toothy smile, all will be right again.  You’ll be safe.  You’ll be home. 

📷credit: Reel Special