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Tonight's picture was taken on Mother's Day of 2006. We took Mattie out for lunch at one of his favorite restaurants. The restaurant gave all moms that day a beautiful geranium, which you can see in the photo on the right. We don't have many photos of us together, but our waiter snapped it for us on that day and I am so glad I have it.
Quote of the day: For when a child is born the mother also is born again. ~ Gilbert Parker
As of today I have acknowledged 13 Mother's Days without Mattie and only 7 with him. So how do I feel about Mother's Day? I think the notion of the day has evolved over my 13 years of loss. Unlike in the beginning, I can now accept that this is a national holiday, that there are reasons to celebrate the day, and that whether I want to hear it or not, people I DON'T know will wish me a happy Mother's Day! Whether they know my story, whether I have a child, or not. Shortly after Mattie died, if someone tritely wished me a Happy Mother's Day, I would want to scream. It was as if someone was psychologically stabbing me.
That said, as a bereaved mom, you learn strategies to help you cope with a forever loss. But that doesn't mean that the pain and heartache aren't still there. Unfortunately they remain, and Mother's Day is a bittersweet day for me, as no mom should have to outlive her child. It just isn't natural or normal. But finding a way forward with this pain truly takes fortitude, courage, and the strength to figure out who I am, what provides me meaning, and how to live a life without Mattie.
All I know is Mattie is my greatest teacher. Given my own experiences, I am now much more aware of using the words... Happy Mother's Day. Because a woman is of child bearing age or perceived to be old enough to have a child, doesn't necessarily mean she has a child. This day can evoke all sorts of feelings because what if your mom died, what if you are unable to have children, or..... fill in the blank. There are many reasons why this day could bring about sadness, rather than happiness and joy. But in all honesty, I am not sure I would have been that clued in, if it weren't for Mattie.
On Mother's Day, I like to repost two things. The first is the origin of Mother's Day and the second is a piece by Erma Bombeck that my friend Denise gave me years ago. Each year that I read it, I get something new from it. Meaning, this year I highlighted the words... instrument who is left behind. Indeed, that is referring to me, I am the instrument that was left behind to perpetuate Mattie's life and legacy. Funny how I have read this passage each year, but it is in this 13th year of loss, that these words simply jumped off the page at me.
The origin of Mother's Day in the US:
In the United States, Mother's Day did not become an official holiday until 1915. Its establishment was due largely to the perseverance and love of one daughter, Anna Jarvis. Anna's mother had provided strength and support as the family made their home in West Virginia and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania where her father served as a minister. As a girl, Anna had helped her mother take care of her garden, mostly filled with white carnations, her mother's favorite flower. When Mrs. Jarvis died on May 5, 1905, Anna was determined to honor her. She asked the minister at her church in West Virginia to give a sermon in her mother's memory. On the same Sunday in Philadelphia, their minister honored Mrs. Jarvis and all mothers with a special Mother's Day service. Anna Jarvis began writing to congressmen, asking them to set aside a day to honor mothers. In 1910, the governor of West Virginia proclaimed the second Sunday in May as Mother's Day and a year later every state celebrated it.
Mothers Who Have Lost a Child - May 14, 1995 by Erma Bombeck
If you're looking for an answer this Mother's day on why God reclaimed your child, I don't know. I only know that thousands of mothers out there today desperately need an answer as to why they were permitted to go through the elation of carrying a child and then lose it to miscarriage, accident, violence, disease or drugs.
Motherhood isn't just a series of contractions, it's a state of mind. From the moment we know life is inside us, we feel a responsibility to protect and defend that human being. It's a promise we can't keep. We beat ourselves to death over that pledge. "If I hadn't worked through the eighth month." "If I had taken him to the doctor when he had a fever." "If I hadn't let him use the car that night." "If I hadn't been so naïve. I'd have noticed he was on drugs."
The longer I live, the more convinced I become that surviving changes us. After the bitterness, the anger, the guilt, and the despair are tempered by time, we look at life differently.
While I was writing my book, I want to Grow Hair, I Want to Grow Up, I Want to Go to Boise, I talked with mothers who had lost a child to cancer. Every single one said death gave their lives new meaning and purpose. And who do you think prepared them for the rough, lonely road they had to travel? Their dying child. They pointed their mothers toward the future and told them to keep going. The children had already accepted what their mothers were fighting to reflect.
The children in the bombed-out nursery in Oklahoma City have touched more lives than they will ever know. Workers who had probably given their kids a mechanical pat on the head without thinking that morning are making calls home during the day to their children to say, "I love you."
This may seem like a strange Mother's Day column on a day when joy and life abound for the millions of mothers throughout the country. But it's also a day of appreciation and respect. I can think of no mothers who deserve it more than those who had to give a child back.
In the face of adversity, we are not permitted to ask, "why me?" You can ask, but you won't get an answer. Maybe you are the instrument who is left behind to perpetuate the life that was lost and appreciate the time you had with it.
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