Throughout the past few weeks, I've been actively dreading Mother's Day. The thought of spending a day celebrating the wonderful fact that I am a mom just feels wrong without Molly. I've been feeling so mixed up. I have Cole here. And I will always proudly be Molly's mom. But I still just wanted Mother's Day to go away. I wanted all the jewelry ads to stop. I wanted the floral section at the grocery store to go back to normal. I wanted quiet. I wanted peace.
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| After a trip to the Children's Museum in January. |
I planned to spend Mother's Day planting in Molly's garden. Cole and I went shopping a few days ago to pick out some yellow flowers. Turns out he also wanted purple, orange, red, and pink. We got all the colors he wanted because I figured maybe he knew better than I did what Molly would want. I was looking forward to digging in the dirt and letting my hands be busy, my boys next to me if they wanted to help. A day as close to my whole family being together as could be. This day may still happen, but there are frost predictions for tomorrow night, so the day I pictured may not come true.
I've been reading a lot of blogs written by bereaved parents about Mother's Day. I've been trying to pinpoint my feelings more exactly so that I can articulate them to those who will be around me tomorrow. And of course, I instead found something I wasn't looking for. A new attitude. If I want peace, I have to make it. So last night I got a lot of tears out and ate a lot of cookies and talked Brendon's ear off and decided to make peace within myself and give up the Mother's Day fight. I wasn't going to win, anyway.
This Mother's Day, I will be grateful. For my Mom. For my family. For the lessons Cole and Molly teach me. For the new Life growing inside of me. For my incredibly strong, insightful, and resilient nephews and nieces. For flowers and friendships and chocolate chip pancakes and the new shoes Brendon has promised to buy for me. I will be kind, especially to myself, but also to those who surround me. I will be forgiving. To myself. To those who don't realize that the things they say are hurtful. I will let myself be whatever I need to be. I will cry and laugh, just like every day. I am choosing to make it a good day. I may not celebrate, but I will not crawl in a hole. I will continue this journey, missing my girl and keeping her as close as I can, just like every day.
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In reality, tomorrow will be like most other weekend days. Cole will wake me up and climb into our bed and snuggle for a while. Brendon and Cole will play while I make pancakes, and after breakfast we'll make a plan for our day. Cole will play "Winnie the Pooh time" in which he does all the voices for Winnie the Pooh, Tigger, Eyore, and Piglet, and Brendon will try to get a project done. We'll see Cole's cousins and get some baby girl love from Tess (I swear, by the way Tess greets Brendon with intense hugs, and the way she is obsessed with Cole, a part of Molly lives in her). At bedtime, Cole will say, "I love Mama, Dada, Molly, and me because we are a family." A typical day that may have some atypical triggers for sadness, but all in all, a typical day. And who knows? Maybe we'll see a butterfly or Cole will share a Molly Moment with us. I can always hope, right?
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| A lovely sunny day in April. |
To all the women that hold their children in their arms, and all the women that hold a child only in their heart, and all the women that yearn for a child of their own but are struggling on their journey, may you have peace and kindness tomorrow and every day.
"A Mother is not defined by the number of children you can see but by the love she holds in her heart."
~Franchesca Cox
