Well, it’s here: Mothers Day.
Honestly, I believe it’s one of the hardest days for a loss mama to bear. It just hurts. Deeply. Everything about it is wrong. On one hand, we are mothers and deserve to have our motherhood honored just as much – actually, I’m just going to say it: more than – every other mother on the planet. We carried life inside us, we birthed our sweet babies into the world. We planned, hoped, and dreamed just like every other mother did. But death stepped in and here we are, without our children, with lives that can feel as empty as our arms, and we just don’t feel like “typical” mothers. We know the joy of our children, but we also know the anguish of their absence, so we just can’t celebrate ourselves the way that we should.
For the past three years that I’ve faced this holiday without my son, I’ve found it best to stay home, tucked safely away from the bombardment of happy smiling mothers with happy smiling children and too many flowers and too many cards and too many everything-wonderful-and-perfect-and-lovely. It’s just too much for my heart to see what was taken from me. What I should be living. What feels like an unachievable dream. Instead, I’ve found I can actually experience a peaceful day when I stay home and do things that fill my heart with love for my son, and that honor the motherhood I know to be real.
In years past, I’ve asked my husband to make me a special breakfast in bed, or to cuddle as we watch movies that have nothing what-so-ever to do with babies or children or mothers. He makes a special effort to buy me gifts from our son, and to do thing to show me he values me as Samuel’s mother. I’ve found that taking time to pamper myself can feel nice, so I try to make time each Mother’s Day to give myself a facial, or a pedicure, or to take an extra long soak in a nice warm bubble bath. This year, I have a new bottle of bubbles I bought for today, simply because I’m worth it. I put in my request with my husband for stuffed french toast and sausages for breakfast, and we’ve picked up some redbox movies to enjoy together. We also picked up some very lovely flowers to plant in our garden for Samuel.
The most important thing I do each Mother’s Day is take time to think of my son, and the ways I mothered him while he was here. I sit in the rocking chair we shared for our months together and I hold the book of his photos as I take in the site of his precious face. I allow myself time to cry for all that’s lost and all I long for. I allow myself to say “this is not at all how it should be”. I allow the tears to fall for as long as I need. I give myself permission to feel whatever needs feeling as I reflect on his beautiful life, and my great loss.
As you face this day that is not at all how it should be, I hope above all else that you follow your heart. If you need to stay home, stay home, if you need to be around people who will honor your motherhood and your child, then go to them. Whatever feels right to your heart, do that, and nothing else. Always remember, this day is for you. YOU are a mother. A brave and beautiful mother who faces every day with a hole in her heart. A mother who has lived through the unthinkable, but still keeps on going. A mother who would have done anything to keep her child with her. A mother, through and through.
I wish you peace and healing as you make it through this day. Please be gentle with yourself, and protect your heart as best you can. You are a beautiful mother!
She is the creator, co-founder, and Editor of Still Mothers.She is the founding owner of All That Love Can Do, a resource for families who continue pregnancy after a fatal diagnosis. She is a contributing author of Still Standing Magazine, and All That Love Can Do, and her own blog, The Love We Carry.Her story is featured in Still Standing: Because They Lived and "Invisible Mothers".
She is married to her faithful husband, Bryan.
She speaks openly about life and loss, the joy of carrying her son, and the heartache of living without him. She believes no one should have to face a life of loss alone.
- Still Mothering - May 5, 2017
- The Mothering Project - April 9, 2017
- At Least - November 28, 2016
This is just beautiful, RaeAnne. This year I finally allowed myself a space to grieve and celebrate their lives. My husband presented me with a beautiful ring; five cherry blossoms, one for each of us, and pearls; we had an amazing brunch, spent some time with a friend; and said a prayer before lighting four Chinese Flying Lanterns and watching them fly. It was beautiful.
Here’s hoping your day was peaceful as you reflected upon and honored Samuel’s life.
Under the same sky,
Dani
Thank you, Dani <3. It sounds like you had a beautiful day of love and remembrance.