May 5, 2018

Mother’s Day is a day where we celebrate the women that carried life in their bellies for an average of 36 weeks and sometimes longer. We give flowers, fill church pews, take all the reservations of our favorite restaurants, and spend crazy amounts of money on purses, bottles of perfume, and other things to say Thank You.

I struggle with this day because I am the mother of a beautiful, intelligent, kind, and spirit-filled 12-year-old daughter. But I also buried my mother before I became a woman.

November 18, 2000 my mother passed away suddenly from an aortic aneurism. I was 20 years old, in my second year of college, and still trying to find my way. Five years later in July, I gave birth to a 7 pound, 4.8 ounces baby girl. No guidance as to what to do and how to be what this little person needed. But she’s still alive with plans to graduate high school early to pursue a career in veterinarian medicine, so I must have done something right.

We go through the year on a routine as most families do. School, homework, extra-curricular activities, Church service, movies, amusement parks, and the occasional mother/daughter disagreements. But when Mother’s Day comes around, I don’t know how to stay on schedule. I feel stuck. Like I mentioned earlier, Mother’s Day is where we celebrate the woman that carried and gave us life. Well I don’t have that anymore. And even though it has been more than 10 years, moments like this make the pain reappear.

The pain is real and present, but so is the person I gave life to that is so eager to share flowers, hugs, kisses, gifts that somehow were snuck into the house (still trying to figure that one out. It’s just the two of us….hmmmmm), and most importantly love.

Over the years, I’ve come to accept the day as sorrowful and joyful. I put a happy face on to avoid the questioning outsiders that have no clue as to the many levels of emotion that are inside of me. As well as to avoid those family members that think their words will actually console the broken heart that is only partially mended. Plus, there’s a mini me that deserves a positive experience of this day.

If there is anyone reading this that can relate, how do you deal with being stuck between sorrow and joy?