Mother's Day, It's Complicated

And it probably always will be

My first Mother’s Day was in 1995 and no one paid it the slightest attention. I had given birth on the previous Thursday and was a victim of the insurance company’s twenty-four hour drive through birth policy. I gave birth at 3:23 Thursday afternoon and was home by noon the next day.

Even a cheap motel will give you an option for late checkout.

So after a twenty-seven-hour long labor with three hours of pushing I was, literally, a bloody mess when they put this baby boy in my arms and sent me on my way. On the Saturday we had to get him and myself into the car to get to the pediatrician for a well check because discharging a newborn after only a few hours then required that visit. Or something. I don’t know because I hadn’t slept three straight minutes for about seventy-two hours and I was nearly psychotic with hormones and exhaustion.

Ryan’s first photo, he was about an hour old.

My mother and mother-in-law were appalled and my husband was overwhelmed.

It was a few weeks later that we realized I had had no celebration for my first Mother’s Day, and I confess to feeling a bit miffed at having missed it. It seemed like such a right of passage to me at that time. Dave made up for it the following year but my feelings about the crap storm of that first one hung on for years.

Fast forward a few years when the internet is new and telling us all how much we would be pampered on this day, brunches and gifts, flowers and candy, relaxation and appreciation. I have to say that mostly that didn’t happen. I was the one cooking brunch for the mothers (his and mine) and buying the gifts and coordinating the day all while wrangling a passel of babies and toddlers. It was just one more day with a lot of extra work thrown in.

I was always feeling neglected and cheated. Then I felt guilty for feeling that way because, after all, I had everything I ever wanted, a loving husband, a nice house, and beautiful children. What the heck did I have to feel angsty about?

When the unspeakable happened and we lost our oldest son Mother’s Day became kind of a nightmare of grief for me because it often fell on or near his birthday, which is May 11th. It brought on a flood of memories of his birth, his birthday parties, his First Holy Communion (received on his birthday), and just all the missing type feelings. I learned to cope with that and we tried to make it a happy day. For a few years, we would go out to the cemetery, plant or leave some flowers, and then go out to lunch in Ryan’s memory, first with the children and then, after a while, just us.

In a profound act of compassion and kindness, our parish’s music director at the time started dedicating the spring concert to Ryan’s memory right around his birthday. Since almost all of my children were participating it became a beautiful way to remember him with my family and my parish family.

The concert is tonight if you are local. Coordinated by one of my daughters who is now the music director of the parish.