I feel like I’ve had an entire Mother’s Day weekend allowing me to cycle through a wide array of emotions. The happiest element of my weekend was that my HUSBAND WAS HOME FOR IT. We rarely have two days off in a row, and when we do it’s usually because something’s going on. Wedding. Funeral. Extreme illness. And the like.
Saturday we participated in a walk for Empty Arms Support. I became familiar with this group in December when a friend delivered her baby shortly after the baby passed away. The experience blew all of us away in its profundity, and as we’ve all tried to continue to be there for our friends I went to a support group and learned about the walk. There were lots of people there, walking for babies who had died at or before birth.
Pink and blue balloons, blue t-shirts covered up with coats and jackets.
People carried balloons, blue for boys and pink for girls, and wore shirts with names on the back for the babies who died, even Camper had one. A onesie I put over his sweater (as it was a cold, rainy day) and to honor those families, to show them our support and to witness their solidarity, we walked. Together.
He loved stamping in his boots.
Later that day I went to Hallmark to find a card for my friend, a Mother’s Day card that celebrated her unique motherhood, that acknowledged the sadness of the day while still congratulating her on being a Mom! On having a daughter! And I just stood there and cried. Because no one should have to be brave like this woman and her husband are brave.
Today in church in a talk celebrating all women and all mothers, my Dad read a quote from this blog, and as he read this:
To the woman who has lost a child. I am sorry. I know you find yourself in that place of mourning and loss. If it was your only child, you may question the whole “mother” title. I know. I have been there and I am sorry. If you have other children, I know how much it hurts to be torn between appreciating the love your children shower you with and missing the love you lost. You are strong. I admire you. And, even if it hurts, I do wish you a peaceful Mother’s Day.
I cried again. Big tears, overwhelming feelings. Mother’s Day feelings. If you haven’t read this, I really encourage you to. It says Happy Mother’s Day to Moms who have lost babies, who have given babies up for adoption, children who have lost their mother, women who have taken over mothering roles on behalf of deceased or missing mothers and who have stepped in where no one else will. It even says Happy Mother’s Day to Dads who are on their own, performing both roles where they can, and raising their children on their own. It says Happy Mother’s Day to the Moms who didn’t get pancakes or bacon made for them this morning, to the Moms who might not get a card because no one could find one to describe the kind of Mother they are.
Sometime during that talk my son did a miraculous thing. He fell asleep. I don’t think he has slept outside his crib or his carseat since he was about 4 months old. I rarely even see him sleep, as I usually lay him down and blow him a kiss goodnight and close the door to his, “Mu-wa!” and wake up to his morningtime request of, “NEMO! CARS! DAD! CHOO CHOOO!” echoing through the baby monitor. But he fell asleep on John and leaned over over to me and snuggled in and just slept. And it was like a gift, to hold him and feel him and smell him while he dreamed. At the end of the day I feel blessed to be a mother, to have the feelings that I have had. The remarkable feelings of watching him grow, the crazy fear of worrying about our family. So many thoughts and so many feelings.
my wee family
So Happy Mother’s Day.
Thanks for sharing that tidbit about moms with empty arms we had another friend of ours lose their little girl on the 1st of May. Almost identical to Jenn’s lose It is just as heartbreaking even though they have 5 other kids, different in many ways but still heartbreaking. Anyway thanks