Mothers Day 2019. My last “first.”
I haven’t been looking forward to the day to celebrate Moms. Where all of social media bombards you with beautiful photos, memories, quotes of people celebrating their Mothers and their own Motherhood. And I sit here motherless with 3 angel babies and carrying Noah in my heart trying to pretend it was just another day. Just wishing it was another day.
The build-up to today was actually worse than the day itself but that seems to be the same with any holiday or day of importance. It has been bittersweet since 2015 and I’ve been trying to keep it in the back of my mind this year.
Don’t get my wrong, I’m grateful for the minutes and each memory I get with the kids but days like today highlight my ache. The empty spot on my lap.
I took my frustrations out on a table top that I cannot get to fit my perfectionist ways. I know where the tears were coming from and who they were meant for and it wasn’t my stupid table beautifully refinished table. Sure I was frustrated and will be at the little flubs I had today finishing it but the tears were from a deeper place. There was nothing superficial about those tears I kept pushing down until they spilled out over a table top.
However, at the same time as all these big emotions were bubbling beneath the surface I had 3 children eager to give me the cards they picked out and the artwork they created so I focused on them and on their joy as their eyes filled with pride and happiness as they handed me their treasures and the 5th who took his first huge nap out of arms. They filled my day with love, hugs, random renditions of Happy Mother’s Day and Happy Birthday (ahem Charlotte), a little bit of frustration (for good luck. ???), and a little silly too.
I made it through. Some moments weren’t pretty but I made it.
Now I sit eating my chocolate covered strawberries with a nursing baby immersing myself in all thoughts Noah and balanced with those first moments when they all came earthside.