Mother’s Day

Today is only a crappy day if I let it be.

You see, I am a mother. I’m Hudson’s mommy, now and always. She lived beautifully and brilliantly, and I mothered her beautifully and brilliantly. It all ended far too soon, but it makes me no less of a mother.

And I can focus on these beautiful, brilliant things today. I COULD focus on my loss. I COULD cry in my room, avoid people, and mourn intensely the LACK I feel today.

And don’t get me wrong. I feel an intense absence today that will NEVER be filled, because it is Hudson’s and Hudson’s alone. She should be in our home, in her mother’s arms, where she belongs. This could be the worst day ever if I let it be, because there are SO MANY things today that can be daggers to a childless mother’s soul:

Mother’s Day cards with baby feet and sloppy artwork for decoration.
Two hour waits for brunch, surrounded by families with children of all ages.
Facebook posts celebrating the life-changing relationship that is the mother-child dynamic.

But it is all about perspective, and I chose to focus on the beautiful, brilliant things:

I will never get a Mother’s Day card with Hudson’s footprints or her sloppy artwork for decoration, but I can wear her feet over my heart, I can hold the molds of her feet, and I can cherish the artwork my niece N made that celebrates Hudson. Plus, handmade cards by Momma Sue and several other cards from friends and family have meant an awful lot to me today.
I didn’t have to wait quite two hours for Mother’s Day brunch with Grandma and Grandpa Dub – which was delicious. The place we ate at wasn’t swarming with small children, and I love being surrounded by my family in any environment.
I’ve received Facebook posts and text messages throughout the day that have been extremely encouraging, honoring and recognizing the life-changing relationship that I have with my daughter.

The trick – and it is extremely difficult at times – is to not make everything about Me.

Yes, I AM a mother, and yes, today could be pretty crappy because I am without my baby, forever, this awful inescapable unchangeable world-smasher. But I also have a pretty amazing mother, myself. My husband’s mom is the best mother-in-law a girl could ask for, and she raised this incredible man for me to marry. I have lovely friends and siblings who are mothers. Why not focus on celebrating them?

Today isn’t about me. I mean, it is, a little. But I don’t want Mother’s Day to be sad, so I will choose to celebrate my beautiful, brilliant experience as a mother, and to celebrate the other beautiful, brilliant mothers in my life, and to celebrate the beautiful, brilliant daughter I was blessed to meet 10 months ago, and who I cannot wait to meet again.

 

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6 thoughts on “Mother’s Day

  1. April Knopper says:

    You are and will be a spectacular mother. Hudson was blessed to have you.

  2. Momma sue says:

    You know how to make the darkness brilliant, and to share your mommy’s heart! I am blessed to have you-a brilliant daughter and we will all be right beside you to meet Hudson again! Happy mommy’s day!

  3. Sarah says:

    You’re an amazing daughter, sister, friend, daughter-in-law and *mommy*. You do Hudson so much honor with your perspective on life.

  4. Rachel L says:

    My sweet Erica, I thought about you many times today. Feeling so many of the same things you have described in your last two posts. I wish this “Awful” never had to happen to anyone. I wish more than anything that we could have our beautiful 10 and 3 month old babies with us on Mother’s Day. Like you, I have been trying to hold on to the positive today and celebrate Aiden’s life and the nine months I spent with him. I’m so thankful that I got to be his mommy, even though it wasn’t even close to long enough. You were, are and will continue to be an amazing mother to your precious daughter. She lives on through you, your life, your words, and your love. You are inspiring. Love you.

  5. […] month of May brings with it Mother’s Day. Eff that noise. I tried to be positive about it. I really did. The day itself wasn’t that […]

  6. […] In 2013, we were mourning the loss of her, and I was struggling with the awkward quandary of being a mother without a child to be a mother to. […]

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