Mother's Day. Today is a day of mixed emotions. And by that I mean mixed emotions within myself, and mixed emotions among those around me. For those who have been able to decide if/when they want to have their family, and can plan everything from the number of children they want down to the best seasons for having those babies, the emotions might be different compared to those who have struggled to get pregnant, lost a child or lost contact with a child (abortion, "giving up a child" through adoption, severed relationships, stolen children, death of a child). And if you have children, whether planned or not, biological or not, you have varying degrees of satisfaction and delight. Sometimes varying by the hour. Even as adults celebrating our own moms, stand-in-moms, surrogate moms, moms-in-law, and people who have acted as moms in our lives, we of course aren't celebrating perfection.
I don't say that to be crass, or melancholy, or to provide shock value. I also shrug (picture the raised shoulders along with one side of the mouth extended to the side and raised eyebrows. You know, the look that says, "you'll have that"), because I am not avoiding any of the above either. I say it because the true beauty of Mother's Day, in my opinion, might be lost if we don't first say these things.
An SNL sketch from last night prompted me to write about this. Although this is hilarious, I don't suggest watching it with kids in the room:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/489162?playlist_id=1722
So if the beauty of Mother's Day isn't found in the ideal (
cough*hallmark
*cough), then how do we celebrate with true joy?
Where's the beauty when my son, whom we're discovering has some fairly exhausting sensory needs (I hear they're exhausting for him too), is having a blaring meltdown on the morning I should be able to sleep in?
Where's the beauty when I'm eating breakfast in bed (thanks, babe!), and I glance up in the closet and lock eyes on a box I haven't given much thought to since last Mother's Day, a box containing the positive pee stick, ultrasound, blankie, name plate, burial service program, and the silk rose from that service, in honor of our lost baby?
Where's the beauty when I'm talking on the phone with my mom and can't stop thinking about that last conversation I had with her where I hurt her feelings and although I've apologized I know we're both still thinking about?
Where's the beauty when you feel the twinge of cramps after having thought there was a slight chance that God was deciding to grow your family once more?
Where's the beauty when we drive past homes on our street and our hearts hurt as we remember the woman who's mom recently passed, the woman who is celebrating her first Mother's Day as a widow, the family who just moved in and doesn't seem to have any visitors today, the grumpy old man whom it would be hard to imagine has many edifying relationships, or the teenage girl whose birth mom gave her up and might never be able to tell her why?
I have over-emphasized the ugly here to make a point.
Yes, there were moments of beauty throughout today. I got some pretty great monster squeezes (calling them hugs makes them uncool I guess), I got to eat chocolate-cake-batter ice cream, I was told that I'm "the best" mom, I got breakfast in bed...hot breakfast...while watching cartoons...with all four of us eating on top of beach towels, and I am also mindful of the daily blessings that I take for granted all too often. Beauty, yes.
But, let's be honest, striving for ideal beauty - as depicted by Hallmark or 1-800-Flowers, by the fancy dresses or fancy lunches that we use to make the day special, or even by the strategically chosen pictures and stories posted unassumingly on social media that weave an unreal tapestry of beautiful-only-moments - this ideal and striving for it only makes us feel empty. Or if we're lucky, we might experience a cloud nine emotion, but it will be painfully temporary. The awesome tear-inducing monster squeeze was somehow reciprocated by me in some imperfect way and causes meltdown number seven for the day. I sit down after the kids are in bed and somehow my gut knows, without even becoming a conscious thought, that although today was great, I'm definitely not a perfect mom and possibly not even "the best" mom.
Yet I am joy-full. I am full of joy because when I am truly honest with myself, beauty is not found in the absence of struggle, it is actually found in the midst of struggle. In response to struggle. In those moments after the struggle. The moments where I thank God that although there is no perfection on this side of glory, HE has SOME PURPOSE (as twisted as it might seem on some days) for the day-to-day. There is beauty in the fact that although I said hurtful things to my mom, she continues to love me and work on our relationship with me. There is beauty in the fact that my son is discovering that we will love him and love him and love him (not a typo), in the midst of his nervous system glitches. There is beauty in the resilience and strength that I've developed through the ups and downs of my and my friends' various fertility stages. There is beauty in the wrinkles of those older - much, much older than me - living on our block or not, whose wrinkles have been etched by smiles and dampened with many tears over the years because tears mean that there is care ("The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference" -Elie Wiesel).
There is beauty in the process. Learning. Loving. Caring. I guess that would be my Hallmark card.
.JPG)
