For a lot of years, Mothers Day for me represented proof of my ultimate and complete failure.
My very first Mothers Day, my first child was 6 weeks old. I had spent the last month of my pregnancy in the hospital on complete bedrest. My son was born by emergency c-section on March 30th at 1:37pm a week after his due date. He was 4lbs 7ozs.At 10:30pm the doctor came in to have me sign a release to do a spinal tap because Troy was having seizures.He was diagnosed with CMV, Seizure disorder, Cerebral Palsy, Spastic Quadraplegia,Mental Retardation, Microcephaly, as well as being blind and deaf. I was finally able to see him and touch him about 8 the next morning.
At 10 the doctor came in to inform me that Troy was being transferred to a pediatric intensive care unit an hour away. They were not certain he would survive the trip. Two weeks later we met with the team of doctors. They told us that they would be releasing Troy but that they did not expect him to live for more than a month. We should enjoy the time we had with him and plan his funeral. That is a hard hard thing to take in.
When Mothers Day arrived, I was prepared to celebrate. Troy was still alive and thriving despite the dire prognosis. My husband took off with his buddy. My sister bought a card and put Troys footprints in it for me. I spent the day with her and her friend and Troy. I finally tracked down my husband at a bar. I asked when he would be home. He said when he got there.
When he finally arrived, he informed me that he wanted a divorce and he wanted me gone as soon as possible. My sister and I packed a bunch of stuff into her truck and went the next day.
Two years before when I had written in my senior book that I wanted to be a wife and mother. I had obviously failed at both of those vocations.
So you might understand why Mothers Day kind of left a bad taste in my mouth.
I am pleased to say that I had 3 more Mothers Days with Troy. As well as 20 with my son Sam,15 with my daughter Carrie Beth and 14 with my step children, Joshua, Carrie Lynn and Ashley. And now I am beginning to celebrate my childrens spouses and children. But I always seem to have to fight the sadness that creeps up and the unrealistic expectations I try not to have but always seem to be there. Like I am missing out on something that all the other mothers get.
I try to remind myself that I am so blessed. I have wonderful kids who love me both those I gave birth too, those who were bonus gifts when I married their father and those who married my children and gave me grandchildren. I have AMAZING grandchildren. I have a special boy who smiles when he sees me and calls me Mymy. There are children in my church who run to hug me and talk to me. I have no shortage of love.
I think part of my sadness comes from the fact that I am not able to spoil the kids in my life as I would like. I would love to be able to walk into a store and just buy everything that I know each of them would love. Take them to Disney World. Traveling, amusement parks and the like.
I guess part of me is afraid that because I can't do those things they won't love me quite as much. I don't trust that I have taught them that "stuff" isn't important well enough.