I never wanted to be that person that ruined Mother's Day for everyone. I recognize, and even applaud the fact that churches and individuals have tried to become more sensitive to the pain that Mother's Day can bring to many women, for many reasons. But why shouldn't mothers be celebrated on this one day for all they are and do? My not being a mother does not negate all the selfless ways that mothers care for their children. After all, I have a mother who is 100% amazing at being a mother. So each Mother's Day I would resolve to celebrate fully. I would heartily wish other mothers a happy day. And I meant it! I wanted to be bigger than my own desires.
But if I'm completely honest with you and myself, for the last 15 years or so, Mother's Day hurt.
Badly.
Mother's Day highlighted the fact that my arms were empty.
Empty.
Empty.
I would head out to church with great resolve to be cheerful and thankful. Usually I succeeded...as long as nobody kindly recognized my secret longing. For instance, two years ago I sat through a lovely church service on Mother's Day, proud of my sincerely joyful attitude. But then during sharing time, a woman that I greatly admire, sensitively asked for prayer for women who yearn to be mothers and are unable. It opened the floodgates.
I sat in my chair and silently wept, hoping I could pull it together before church let out.
As hope of becoming a mother turned to fear, and fear to reluctant acceptance that motherhood was not in my cards, I tried to comfort myself in lots of ways. Perhaps God had called me to mother in ways other than the traditional definition? I loved my role as an aunt to my eight nieces and nephews! Maybe I was called to fill a special role in the lives of those children by being a dedicated aunt. And oh! Oh how I loved my role as a piano teacher. I never took for granted the fact that each of those children had one-on-one time with me each week for learning and connection. Maybe that was that was the way that God called me to "mother" the children I came into contact with? It could be enough.
But it didn't take away the ache I had to mother in the truest sense of the word, to be a momma to a little bundle of flesh and potential.
So here I was, in 2016, looking at my very first Mother's Day as a (be still my heart) momma!
With this newfound role, has come a healthy side of guilt. You see, for so long it seemed that motherhood was a club that I was excluded from. I longed so much to be part of this club. I didn't want to be excluded from this group of women just because I didn't have a baby of my own. Couldn't they see that I loved children, wanted to know about their children and their struggles? But it seemed impossible to get my foot in that door.
Now I find myself a part of this exclusive club. And I love it. So much! I love gathering with other mothers and their babies. I love discussing the ways in which we mother. I love this baby of mine. So much! I love mothering even when I don't like all of its aspects. I am sometimes overwhelmed by the strength of my emotion.
So I feel guilty. Because I know there are so many women out there longing for this, still waiting for their membership card to this motherhood club. How dare I feel so happy when for so long I was excluded and others are still being excluded? How do I honor these women? Sometimes I'm not sure how to deal with this question because this pain became such a reflex to me, that I often have to remind myself that I don't have to feel it anymore.
Our son's name is Julian Zane. Zane is the Hebrew form of John, meaning something along the lines of "gracious gift of God." And he is absolutely my gracious gift from God, with his perfect fingers and toes and smile and laugh and weight in my arms as he goes to sleep. When I give someone a gift, nothing makes me happier than seeing that person enjoying that gift. I want to see that person unwrap that gift, use it, and for that gift to bring happiness. Julian is my perfect gift from God. So I will enjoy him every day. I will unwrap him each morning and enjoy all the moments of bliss. I think that I waited for this long enough that I can claim this, even as I wish this same fulfillment for all the other would-be-mommas.
This Mother's Day, my first mother's day as a momma, bloomed full of sunshine and happiness. I embraced every second. (Brian assured me that I should enjoy it to its fullest.) Brian brought me coffee in bed as well as a beautiful gift. There was a potluck at church and I allowed that village to take care of my child while I ate with both hands! I napped with my sweet son on my chest, breathing steadily and clutching my shirt. I didn't change a single diaper. In the evening we gathered with family for another meal where I watched others nurture my boy. It was Mother's Day, finally realized.
It was:
perfect.
