A Little Mother's Day Love

 

You don’t know what pressure is until you are asked to give a Mother’s Day lesson or talk in church. I had to do this a few years ago. All women know what I’m talking about. Mother’s Day is the most complicated holiday that exists. To properly honor mothers and acknowledge their varied experiences with motherhood, and celebrate them without adding pressure or guilt, or offending, requires a balancing act that only a cast of Cirque Du Soleil is capable of pulling off. Now, as a grieving mother, I understand this all too well, as I spent most of my Happy Mother’s Day last year crying. But today, for this post, I want to share some happier thoughts.  

21 years ago on Mother’s Day, I was pregnant with my first child, Katelyn. I was sitting in church and all the mothers were asked to stand up to receive a Mother’s Day gift. I didn’t stand up since my baby wouldn’t be born for a few more months. The woman behind me whispered to me, pointing to my protruding pregnant belly, “Go ahead, stand. You’re clearly a mother!” I thought about that for a minute and realized she was right. The minute I found out I was pregnant, I started taking vitamins, drinking more water, being careful about what I ate and trying to take good care of myself. I was constantly thinking about my baby’s well being. I was a mother! 

Fast forward a few years. Luke was a toddler and had a terrible milk allergy. If he consumed anything with milk, he would immediately throw up and break out in hives. He had an EpiPen and I worked tirelessly to keep milk and dairy products out of his diet. When my kids were at someone else’s house, big sister Kate would take on the role of mother and make sure Luke didn’t eat anything unsafe. I was so relieved when he outgrew this allergy around age 4. 

Fast forward a few more years to when Ryan was born. I shared about his harrowing birth in a previous post. I have very fuzzy memories of being in the ICU, but one vivid memory I have is being sad that I couldn’t see my baby. They will not let babies into the ICU, so I couldn’t see him for two days until I was stable enough to be in a regular room. Greg needed to be with me most of the time, so I remember feeling concerned and wanting to know if someone, like a nurse, was holding Ryan and feeding him and at least pretending to be his mother until I could do it. That was important to me. I just wanted to know someone was taking care of him. 

Fast forward another year or so to when Bryn, our third child, was five years old. She swallowed a penny. Is this a big deal? I had no idea. We called the doctor. We were told it’s not a big deal as long as it passes, but we needed to verify that it passes. Translation: check her poop everyday for the next 5 days. If it doesn’t pass, we would need to bring her in. I realize my last blog post had a poop story, but motherhood is filled with a lot of poop stories. This is reality. So brace yourselves. I bought some latex gloves and had to follow Bryn into the bathroom each day to examine the specimen. Remember, she’s 5, she’s not a baby, and she poops in the toilet. Do you think, knowing my luck, that it would have passed in one day? No, on day 5 of my toilet-fishing and poop-sifting adventures, I finally found the penny! That was truly disgusting, but I was glad my baby was ok and there wasn’t a penny corroding her intestines. The things we do as mothers!

Fast forward many years and Luke is no longer with us. It pains me to remember the many times I was so careful to protect Luke from harm. While driving the other day, a memory popped into my head of when Luke first had braces and his teeth hurt so bad that he couldn’t chew his food. We were having watermelon and he tried to eat it, but couldn’t chew it and ended up swallowing a piece whole and began choking on it. At first he couldn’t breathe so I immediately grabbed him from behind and got ready to do the heimlich. Just then he was able to talk and coughed it up. He was pretty shaken up, as was I, but we were glad it turned out well. I had never done the heimlich before, so quite frankly I was terrified, but in those moments, you don’t think. You just go into action. 

I don’t share these stories to show what a great mother I am. These moments don’t make me a great mother. They make me a normal mother. This is simply what mothers do. We love our children before they’re even born, and we have a protective instinct that kicks in and compels us to do all that is necessary to ensure their comfort and survival. Unfortunately, sometimes the worst happens. Life throws the most cruel curve balls. Our motherhood stories can change in an instant.  

Motherhood is a life changing experience. Our children change us. Luke has changed me. One thing hasn’t changed—I still think about if he’s happy and comfortable. I still pray for him sometimes. I know I don’t need to, but I can’t help including him when I’m praying for my other children. He still exists. I don’t really know what he’s doing, but I sometimes hope that he has an angel up there mothering him like I would be if he were still here. And that thought makes my heart so happy. And also bring me to tears. 

Happy Mother’s Day and big hugs to all the moms whose motherhood stories didn’t turn out like you expected, but whose love and hope for your family is so strong it will continue on forever. I’m sure that love is felt all the way to heaven. And that’s worth celebrating. ❤