It's Mother's Day, and I woke up with a head full of a whole range of thoughts and so many mixed emotions. My four year old crawled into bed next to me and feeling her warmth and smelling her head once again gave me that sensation of peace and contentment I can always rely on. Brain chemistry at its best, it was my first of today's reminders what a fortune it is to have two thriving children.
Then, in a natural progression, I think of my mother, and I start to feel guilty. As much as I miss her, what ache must she feel to have one of her children so far from her arms. For a moment, I look at it from her point of view, and I wonder if it makes me a terrible daughter to have moved across that vast ocean. I know she does not blame me for this, but having grown up as a painfully responsible mature older child of a single mother, if there is anything to feel guilty about, I am pretty much guaranteed to.
I know not all mothers are incredible selfless people who make their overly conscientious children feel guilty for all the right reasons. I know there are people who have less than positive relationships with their mothers, who instead wish they had one they could gush about, like everyone today seems to be dutifully doing. I know people with mothers who have passed on, whose voices they wish they could hear, rightfully envious of my ability to get annoyed at my mother for being a bit too suspicious of my assurance that I am fine and don't need to go to the doctor for a little cold.
Having had the honor of providing remembrance photography for mothers who have lost their children, I can't help but think of what this day means for them. They are mothers just like the more fortunate ones, left to wonder why it was them left with a few little mementos and their endless grief. If you know one, don't avoid her, acknowledge her pain and ask what you can do. Supporting each other is important enough to endure unpleasant conversations.
Thinking of support, I inevitably think of my community of moms of children with special needs, where advice, guidance and encouragement are always sure to be provided to those who need it. It is a camaraderie, a sort of sisterhood formed by this invisible bond, by that instant mutual understanding contained in the look, smile and nod when we recognize each other, and by a special quality in the love for our atypical kids. The way a mother loves her children has variations that correspond to those in the children's personality. I am not trying to speak for everyone, but from what I know, the way you love a child with differences, a child who requires more love and more parenting is different. I have searched for words to accurately describe this, but I always come back to the phrase "furious love". There is a particularly raw intensity to it that comes from the understanding that you are preparing this child for a world that was not made for them, a world that may not always see their value, It comes from being the only one who truly understand the beauty of their exceptional mind. It is a powerful thing to have in common, and I believe it plays a significant role in creating these invaluable relationships.
And it turns out that this line of thoughts is actually a circle, bringing me back to where I started, to the children I get to mother. Watching them and thinking about them regularly takes my breath away, and very stereotypically, I feel like the luckiest person in the world. Knowing that the emotions related to motherhood are mostly caused by biology does nothing to diminish the power they have over me, and I am alright with that.
