The mixed bag that is Mother's Day.

I think I have Mother's Day PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).  I mean, I've been a mom for almost nine years, so I'd think I'd be over the three years I so wanted to be a mom but wasn't.  But I don't know that those things ever go away.  And even when they go away for us personally, we always know someone who is going through infertility, a failed adoption, miscarriages, or other similar struggles.  And then you've got it on the other end:  friends who have lost their mothers, or whose mothers are ill, or even those who have strained relationships with their mothers.  As much as I'd just love to soak in the day & love it all, I just can't.

Don't get me wrong--I like Mother's Day.  I keep every scribbly, handprint-traced, misspelled word card they make.  I put on my best surprised face when I see the flowers they buy me. (It's a family tradition:  hanging baskets & flowers to plant in the flower beds.  Every year.  Along with great fanfare that I'll NEVER guess what they're going to get me!  It makes my heart happy.)  Plus today I got a BONUS gift:  An older couple sitting near us at the restaurant at lunch wished me a happy Mother's Day when they left, and she said my children were beautiful AND well-behaved!  WHOO HOOOO!   I also got a rose & a Choco Taco ice cream from the restaurant.  That made me happy too.  (I'm pretty easy to please!)

I just hate it when my expectations are too high, or are just plain ol' wrong.  And my "visions" of Mother's Day are this gorgeous, beaming woman with her adorable little kids  doting on her all day, memorizing Proverbs 31 & quoting it to her, while her handsome husband, dressed in his coordinating outfit from church, has lavish plans for the days.  (Yes, you may puke now.  I agree.)  OK--maybe that's not QUITE how I imagined it would play out, but I never thought about how it's such a hard day for so many until the year came when I cried through the day.  All day.  I'd have to put on my brave face to go to work, and have the kids hand out carnations to the mothers after each church service (and I'm still amused at my instructions:  "Offer it to any woman that looks older than a teenager and tell her 'Happy Mother's Day'.  If she doesn't take it, that's OK.  Offer it to someone else.").  The kids would offer me a carnation, and if there were some left at the end of the last service, I'd accept with appreciation for their sweet gesture.  But I think that ache of wanting to be a mom so badly and having to wait for it might sear itself into your soul forever.  I am the mom of three beautiful children, but I can take myself back to those days in a heartbeat.  I've come to accept the fact that this body will never experience a full pregancy or nurse an infant, and I'm okay with that.  Finally.  But my heart still hurts for those women who aren't to that point yet.  It's really a rotten place to be.  And it's on my list of "questions to ask God when I get there", why a fifteen-year-old girl on public assistance can get pregnant in the blink of an eye, but a stable, Christian, ready-for-kids couple can't.  But I guess there are many other variations on that question.  Why do I have amazing friends who are single & would love to get married but haven't met that person yet?  Why does cancer take some people & not others?  The list could go on & on.

It all boils down to the fact that God is God, and I am not.  If I claim to follow Him, I cannot throw a hissy fit when I can't see the whole story.  It's His story to tell, not mine.  And this earth is lovely & is full of beautiful things, but it's also a reminder that there is a much greater world to come.  So, to all those moms out there:  Happy Mother's Day.  And to all those who wish for nothing more than to be a mom:  hang in there.  Just trust me on that.  And to all those who gave a child life to be raised by another:  thanks.  That one little word isn't nearly enough for giving another woman the gift she has longed for more than anything else in this world, but it'll have to do.  There's isn't a big enough word in all of the English language to express that much gratitude.

And so as not to be a Debbie Downer on such a lovely holiday, here's a little Mother's Day humor from our warped daughter:
A:  "Mom, what letter is this?" (as she holds up a piece of waffle.  Yes, toaster waffle remnant.)
Me:  "I don't know!  What letter is it?"
A:  "It's an elephant!"
Oh my.