Mother’s Day is one of those times of the year, where I never really quite know what to say to people. When I was younger, I would cheerfully wish every mother I knew a “Happy Mother’s Day,” fully expecting to join the ranks of mothers in a few years. Now, having known people whose hearts shatter every Mother’s Day, who skip church the second Sunday of every May, who know nothing but pain in relation to a day celebrating what they don’t have or what’s been snatched from them; now, I’m much less…well, blithe about it.
My own mom came to visit me in April and stayed for a week. Ever since my sister died in 2004, my mom has been the Mother’s Day church-skipper, despite being married to a pastor. Her visit, along with my little sister’s first pregnancy and the abundance of new babies and adoptions this past year in our church – it’s all got me to thinking about motherhood and Mother’s Day.
Each year, I know more people who have babies; but I also know more who want them so desperately that they can’t even talk about it. I know more people who have great mothers; but I also know more whose mothers have passed away. I know more people who get pregnant; but I also know more people who have lost children after getting pregnant. The combination of those things makes me approach Mother’s Day with more sensitivity and maturity – neither blithely or bitterly, but somewhere in between. I’m not perfect but I think I get it more right each year.
As a single woman who wants kids someday (translation: now), it’s good for me to get outside myself and celebrate motherhood, for several reasons: Read More