The Approach...

Things come to my attention in strange, random patterns—this is nothing new. Although I would never classify myself as ADD, I am most definitely easily distracted. It’s why I work best, alone. I love to be social, but it’s just not productive. When I’m alone, I can obsessively push myself to get the job done. I can actually be quite driven, when I have a lot to do. But, I digress…(wasn’t that my point?!?!)…

Anyways, this week has brought on the marketing onslaught known as Mothers’ Day.

The past 6 years of Mothers’ Days have brought me no end of heartache. The day is crippling, no matter how I look on the outside; I will never, ever forget that first Mothers’ Day after Hannah passed away. The gaping hole where my heart had been was publicly exposed, raw, bleeding, and so broken; the ladies in my church will never know how much their kindness meant to me, in the middle of my valley.

I wanted to die.

The following years were “better,” but still painful…Mothers’ Day reminds me just how truly scarred I am. As I walk down the Hallmark aisles, and I read the beautiful sentiments that I’d like to give to my own mother, I find myself taking a “selah” moment to simply breathe.

I thought my first Mothers’ Day with JD would make all of that heartache go away…but really, it doesn’t. It’s still there, and I know it always will be, to a certain extent (though it’s easy to say that it is so much better than it ever was…time and grace are truly a healing balm).  The onslaught of pink, flowery, sparkly Mothers’ Day cards still hurts.

It’s a gentle ache, more than anything…but I notice it. My loss is not forgotten…

It’s hard for me to pick out a Mothers’ Day card for my mom, even though no one deserves it more than she does. She’s been incredible, through this process; I feel like a lot of subconscious damage has been repaired through both my pregnancy and in watching her with my son. She really is the most amazing grandmother. She’s reminding me more of my Grandma Myers—and anyone who has heard me talk about Grandma Myers knows that there is no higher compliment in my book. Guess I should tell her that, sometime, eh?  

However, to pick out a card for my mom, means that I have to sift through a bunch of cards that were never for me. And even this year, when I’ve “earned” one, I still look at them with a sideways glance—is that for real? Like motherhood hasn’t officially set in, yet…

Did you know that I finally, after 7 years, put in the “#1 Mom” earrings my mother had bought me while I was pregnant with Hannah? I never felt like I could wear them, until now…Even though I gave birth, I don’t know that I have ever truly accepted my role as a mother. Hearing myself say it now, even when I look at the little man that came out of my body, still sounds strange.

Looking back, it seems like someone else’s life; looking forward, it seems the same: It’s hard to believe that it’s all real.  She was here…she was real. I still remember that she smelled like Cheerios…she was born with more hair than JD…she was tiny, so small…I could have held her for days—but that’s all I got to hold her for…She had my feet, and she looked like her daddy…

And she will always be my first…

He is here, and he is real…and he smiles; he laughs. He looks for me when I walk into the room; he buries his head in my neck and he puts his chubby hands into my hair.  He has my hands, my feet, my legs…he has my inquisitive nature, and my fear of missing out on something.  He looks like so much of his daddy, but so much of me, and he is the reason I have to catch my breath when I leave for work in the morning…

He is, as far as we know, our last…

Mothers’ Day is coming, and it is mine. This one belongs to me…this one, this makes up for the ones that I’ve lost. It makes up for the Mothers’ Days that I cried myself to sleep, that I dreaded with my very soul. This Mothers’ Day, I will make a concentrated effort to celebrate for what it is: This is a day in which the world stops to thank those women whose blood, sweat, and tears form the clay of their lives. I am one of those women…And maybe I was one before, I don’t know. I never saw myself that way.

I always saw myself as a “temporary mother,” like it was only a momentary assignment.

Not this time.

This time, I will see myself as a momma…as a woman who always wanted to be a momma, more than anything else…And though it seems strange to me, to put myself into that category, it seems strangely perfect….everything I ever hoped of, or dreamed of…everything I ever prayed for, even on the tough days.

This Mothers’ Day, I celebrate my mom more than ever; I feel like I understand her just a little bit more.

I’ve picked out a card for her—it’s the first one I looked at, and it seemed the most right. I hope she likes it.  I don’t know if I will get a card for this, my first “real” Mothers’ Day; is it wrong, if I blatantly say that I hope I do? I really do; I want to cherish this day like never before. If you could see the party that is going on inside of my head, you would understand. I really am celebrating…even with the slight breeze of melancholy that echoes through…

(The most precious thing about this picture, is how it was taken. It's a random snapshot of JD, laying on my belly, looking up at me...He's about 10 weeks old in this picture, and I love his expression...)