Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day 2020 has dawned, and it pretty much stirs up the same emotions in me that it always has since I was a preteen and understood what was required and expected. Like most holidays, it has blown up to epic proportions. Society has dictated proper forms of acknowledgement to those special women in our lives who have made sacrifices for us and nurtured us through the years, and pressure continues to mount each May to “perform” as we recognize their influences in our lives. I have mixed feelings about this- not because I am ungrateful for those influential women, but because my own mother was not the kind you see on the Publix and Hallmark commercials. I had stand-in mothers instead. So, each year I not only feel obligated to acknowledge the individual who brought me into this world because it is what is expected of me, but I also reach out to my Nana and mother-in-law who continue to stand in the gap and help fill the empty void my mother has left behind.

My mother has always taken credit for all of my successes in life- she likes to brag to anyone within earshot that I’m smart because she read books to me as a child. She literally believes that I graduated with honors from high school with over $80,000 in scholarships to attend a private college because of the Little Golden Books that were part of my childhood library. Never mind that all those books were stored at my Nana’s house because she never could provide safe housing for me for more than 1 year at a time because of her inability to pay monthly rent, never mind that the only person I recall ever actually reading to me was my Nana and not her…I’m supposed to treat her like the queen that she has built herself up to be in her delusional mind and celebrate her today. Most years I have just sucked it up and done it despite my reservations. It’s what children are supposed to do. This year is different. I no longer give two shits about doing what I am supposed to do. I’m tired of it. I resent her for what she has done (or not done) in my life, I hate the fact that none of my 3 children have ever had a grandmother figure in her that they could be proud of (and most likely the baby that I am currently carrying in my womb won’t be the exception), and I am not going to feel like a phony today by saying words that I don’t mean and conveying false emotions to alleviate the pressure I have allowed society to place on me over the years. She’s not getting a phone call, card, flowers, nice meal, piece of jewelry, or handmade craft. I’ve gifted her all of those things through the years and they meant nothing to me or to her. This year I’m making the choice to remain silent.

What brought me to this point? I’m 38 years old and shouldn’t be this bitter or resentful, but I am. The thing is, my story is still unfolding. We’re not at the end of the movie where I get to ride off into the sunset with all the drama and conflict resolved and I live happily ever after while the credits roll. Instead of finding me on a horse galloping happily and blissfully through the desert basking in the warm glow of the setting sun, you’re currently finding me stranded on a lone stretch of desolate road. I have fallen off my horse. I’ve got scrapes and bruises, my hair is a disheveled mess, and I’m gasping for breath desperately looking for an oasis of fresh water to restore my physical and soul strength. I haven’t “arrived” in my Christian walk, and I struggle immensely with those secret sins of the heart that I have allowed to take root like anger and bitterness. Those feelings are multiplied on days like today. Instead of covering them up, pretending all is well as I sit on my church pew while the pianist plays “Precious Memories” before the start of the service, and forcing myself to do deeds that I don’t want to do because it has been ingrained in me to “honor thy father and thy mother”, I’m just refusing to do that this year. I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just saying it is what it is.

The breaking point for me happened a few months back before my mother got arrested and thrown in jail. She came to the house looking for pain pills. I had some that were prescribed to me after my shoulder replacement surgery and C-section. She has RA like I do, but she can’t take the injections and more effective drugs to battle the disease because she has ruined her liver due to excessive illegal drug use. Her pain management doctor had cut her off due to abusing even the legal drugs, and she was in dire straits. Through slurred speech (no worries, she has always found Valium and in recent years has taken up to drinking), she made desperate pleas for me to give her my meds. As she exited the kitchen, she saw Carter’s picture on the fridge and went up to it and started kissing his face and slobbering all over it, claiming how much she loved him. I saw red. Literal red…she never loved him, had nothing to do with him in the 12 years and 5 months he was here with us. That one action of hers started a slow burn of fury in my gut that would boil over a few days later when she returned banging on my front door. In an effort to shut her up so she wouldn’t wake the baby who was napping, I let her inside when previously I would have ignored her. When she’s high she talks fast, cusses up a storm, and generally acts like a deranged lunatic. That particular day she was in rare form, so I left her alone in the kitchen to carry on a literal conversation with herself while I went to the back of the house to finish getting ready for work. Next thing I know she’s stumbling down my hallway, yelling at me about how much pain she’s in and how no doctor will help her, and I realize she’s about to wake my daughter. I snapped. Before I could even process my actions, I ran out of my bathroom, found her in my bedroom, physically put my hands on her shoulders to turn her around, and propelled her back down the hallway to the front door where I literally put my foot on her ass and kicked her out with every bit of force I could muster. I told her the next time she came to my house looking for drugs or anything else, I was calling the cops. A few weeks later she was arrested for DUI, thrown in jail for a few months, and is now out on bail/bond (or whatever the hell they call it) – I don’t speak jail jargon. She sold her house and has cash now to blow, so it’s only a matter of time before she’s under a bridge and homeless doing crack and heroin like my father. Maybe prison will be her saving grace (this is her third offense so hopefully the book gets thrown at her so she doesn’t wind up killing someone due to her recklessness). Who knows? I sure don’t.

OK, enough about that. That’s my perspective of Mother’s Day 2020 from the child’s point of view. I can’t stand my mother, and it’s pretty bad. Wah, wah, moving on…

On the flip side…I am a mother myself. The Lord in His infinite grace and mercy has seen fit to bless me with FOUR precious children. I have 2 girls here earth side with me. One is a teenager about to start high school in the fall, and one just celebrated her first birthday. I have a son in heaven who will forever be 12 to me, and I have a son safe and secure within my womb who at 15 weeks gestation is about the size of an apple. Their names are Caroline, Carlen, Carter, and Carsen. I have so much to be thankful for on this day set aside to honor mothers because I get to be a mother. Many women long for what I have. I try my best, especially now that I have had to give one child back to God, to not take that honor and privilege for granted. So much can change in an instant. While I celebrate this precious gift of motherhood, I always feel cautious about “bragging” (for lack of a better word) about this special day with my children on social media because my heart goes out to all the women who are struggling with infertility or who have lost a child with no surviving children to bring comfort and joy through their sorrow. This day is painful for so many women, and it just sucks. If you’re reading this and you can identify, then please know that I am sorry and I hope today brings you some form of peace in the midst of your heartache.

I’m also blessed to still have my Nana (the true mother figure in my life) who almost died a year ago due to a massive stroke. She’s still here with us and is beating all odds as she has regained a lot of mobility on her left side and can now walk unassisted. Her mind and her speech were never affected by the stroke, so she is largely the same Nana now that she has always been…she just moves slower and gets easily frustrated because she can’t do tasks quite as smoothly as before. But, she’s here and in her right mind with overall good health and I realize that at 82 years old, the situation could be much different. Lots of families today are missing a beloved grandmother for the first time, and it’s going to be hard. Family meals and gatherings won’t be the same because that special presence is missing, and it’s painful. It sucks. If you identify with this, please know that you’re in my thoughts today. I hope that you find peace and comfort in the things that your loved one enjoyed and that precious memories of her flood your soul and bring happy tears through the pain knowing that you were blessed to have had her in your life. It’s a two-edged sword knowing that because she loved you so well that she is missed beyond measure.Her greatest gift to you is what causes you the greatest pain because you long for her. Remember that she’s just gone from your presence for now. You will see her again.

Finally, there’s the void that is without a doubt, from my point of view, the hardest one to come to terms with today. It’s harder than having a piss poor excuse of a mother. It’s harder than having visions and dreams of motherhood unfulfilled with an aching and empty womb. It’s harder than having a beloved grandmother or mother pass on. It’s when you are a mother and your child is gone. A piece of your heart is missing. Your arms are desperately seeking warmth and the solid presence of your flesh and blood, but that life has been cut short and you’re left behind with an emptiness and heartache that only Heaven can heal. It’s painful, and it sucks. If you identify with this, then please know that you are not alone in your grief. My heart aches with yours. If this is your first Mother’s Day with a child in heaven, you are most likely going to be overwhelmed and deeply, deeply sad and burdened. Remember though, that today is just one day. Even though the calendar makes it special and significant with its own little title and honor, it only has 24 hours in it like any other ordinary day. You will make it through by taking one hour, one minute at a time. Do what brings you comfort and peace and make no apologies for it. Give yourself grace to feel what you feel. You want to stay in bed and cry? Then do it. Tomorrow will be a new day, and you can get up then and face the world. You don’t have to do it today if you don’t want to. You want to avoid the cemetery like the plague because you’re afraid of the emotions that might cripple you seeing your child’s marker and flowers with their casket beneath your feet and no way to break that barrier to have them once again in your arms? Then don’t go. You’re not being disloyal to them. Don’t feel guilty. You can honor and remember their life by staying at home just as easily as you can by going to visit their grave. Most of all, remember this- you are their mother today and everyday. Just because their address has changed, it doesn’t mean their title has. That boy is still your son, that girl is still your daughter, and you are still their mother. Speak their names today and feel their presence around you. A part of them is still here, make no doubt about it. They send us signs from heaven to let us know they are at peace, and I have no doubt their greatest hope for us is that we find peace, too. They’re good, sweet Mama. They’re safe and secure and enjoying all the sights and sounds of heaven. They’re happily awaiting us to join them. Just think! We’re one day closer to that glad reunion day. We will see our babies again.

Dear Carterbug,

Mama has decided to write a blog post in the wee hours of the morning. It shouldn’t be a surprise that I woke up at 3:30 AM with a heavy heart and desire to release the emotions of today through words. Today is the 10th, after all. And it’s Mother’s Day, too. How can I sleep at peace knowing that around this time nearly 34 months ago you took the steps to end your life and permanently alter mine? How can I sleep in peace knowing that today is the day set aside to honor mothers with their children, and you- the first one to make me a mother – are not here to celebrate with me? I miss you so much it hurts, buddy. Even when I try to suppress the emotions and put on a brave front, it doesn’t work all the time- especially on days leading up to holidays and the anniversary of your passing. My outer physical body simply cannot override the heaviness and inner turmoil of my spirit that longs for you and misses you with my every heartbeat. You are missed forever and a day, my sweet boy.

Thank you for sending me the sign of the blue butterfly this week as we prepared to find out for sure the baby’s gender. I knew in my gut from the very beginning I was having a boy. The ultrasound wasn’t really even necessary but it sure felt good to be able to share the news with friends and family- many of whom were rooting for a boy. Make no doubt we would be happy either way, but we’re excited to have another chance to see the world through a little boy’s eyes. Carlen is so much like you that it is uncanny. She loves music and pays attention to small details which makes me think she’ll be an artist, too. And she’s so, so smart, Carterbug. We’re excited to see what traits baby Carsen will have. Will he look like you? Will he like trains and cars like you did? Maybe he’ll like to dig in dirt and play rough and stay outside for hours on end finding bugs and critters- all the things that you wouldn’t do because you were too much like your Mama who would rather stay inside and read and play by yourself. 🙂 Time will tell, and we’re looking forward to what the future holds even though it’s scary and uncertain.

Caroline is making leaps and bounds, buddy. I know you are proud of her. She’ll be at Dorman next year and is nervous about it but excited at the same time. It seems like things are falling back into place in a sense. The plan was always for you and her to go to Dorman while I continued to teach and keep my eyes and ears out for what you both were doing. When you left us, that plan changed. I no longer found peace in the classroom and had anxiety about teaching your classmates, and Caroline had no desire to go to the same middle school as you and follow in your big footsteps. She went to a different school, and I taught in a different district. Now I am no longer teaching, and we have decided as a family that the time has come for her to transition back to District Six. She has also decided to move back upstairs. I know…that is a huge decision. Daddy and I didn’t want to pressure her in any way, but we laid out some options for her for when the new baby comes, and even she agreed that having her own personal space upstairs might be a welcome respite from a crying newborn and curious toddler. Today we went and purchased her a new, fancy daybed that is luxurious and stylish. She’s excited to create a new space up there and have more room. She stated that she would make the transition gradually over the summer in case she has bad days or memories. We think that is very wise.

Speaking of furniture, Daddy found the furniture pieces this week in Nana’s outbuilding to convert your full bed back into a crib for baby Carsen to use. Carlen already has your old changing table that you used as a TV stand and dresser. Now Carsen will have something special of yours in his nursery. We are going to move our older bedroom set into your room to take up the missing space. We’ll keep your bedding the same. It is very important for Daddy and me to retain the integrity of your bedroom as we move crucial pieces out for your siblings. We need for it to still look like “your” room. I never want it to become a storage room or a place where we can’t feel your presence.

OK, I think that is all the updating for now. I have been writing for close to 3 hours and finally feel at peace enough to go back to sleep and maybe get another hour or so. I just looked up from where I am writing at the kitchen table and saw on my shelf a picture from a past Mother’s Day that I have on display. You were always so handsome in your little suits when we dressed nicely for church on special days like today. I sure wish you could be in today’s picture, Carterbug. Thank you for being the best son a mother could ever hope to have and for giving me joy unspeakable. I love you with all of my heart.

Boop!,

Mama