Oh those Mother’s Day Memories
I remember my very first Mother’s Day. It was in May, I think. Kidding! I know it’s always in May.
My husband and I had been married ten years and I was pregnant…FINALLY! We were in church as I recall, and I remember wondering if I should stand when mothers were asked to stand and be honored. I did, but it didn’t feel right to me that I could lay claim to that most honorable title simply by being pregnant.
Mothering means so much more.
Mother’s Day memories aren’t always so somber, as shared by my friend, Chris: My Mother’s Day Gift to Myself.
I also remember the previous Mother’s Days when I wasn’t a mother in any way, shape or form. My very good friend, Mary knew how desperately I wanted a baby; to join the ranks of all the other women my age who were becoming mothers, sometimes for the second and third time. Mary had a baby on this particular Mother’s Day, her very first Mother’s Day with a child in arms and she sent me a Mother’s Day card, telling me that I was her daughter’s second mommy, and how she was willing to share her daughter until I had a child of my own.
I will never forget that most unselfish act, sharing her very first Mother’s Day with me.
I also remember the many Mother’s Days that followed when I finally did become a mother in my own right, and my kids would give me cards and gifts they had proudly made in art class or Sunday School. I know I still have most of those cards, and perhaps some of the crafts as well.
It was different for me then. It was kind of like my due, a day to honor me for doing something I loved. And though I tired not to expect any special treatment, I did, to a certain degree. I wanted recognition for a job that comes without much appreciation or monetary benefits.
Life has changed and my children are grown. Oh, they still give me gifts and pay honor to me just as much as they always did, but there is a difference.
I don’t expect it now.
As much as I cherish those precious words so laboriously written out and the drawings and crafts so dutifully made, it’s the moments of unexpected pecks on the cheek, or a thank you for doing some mundane task that I’ve done more times than I care to remember, or even the going-out-of-my-way times to make something out of the ordinary happen because they asked for my help.
That is Mother’s Day to me now.
I will continue to celebrate motherhood on that special day in May, along with everyone else, not just me being a mother, or having a mother that I am able to spend time with, but for mothers everywhere. Those who have mothered and lost their precious gift and those who have mothered children that weren’t their own, and those that were.
Mothers are special by design, even if we sometimes fall short, or never quite live up to the standard set.
I am honored to be a part of this special group.