Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. This is a day I have always dreaded, and avoided like the plague.
I avoided church, because this day, at church? Is all about mothers, and I was not one.
I avoided friends who were well-meaning, but whose well-meaning comments made me feel worse because they reminded me of what I was not. And often, I had my own little party at home…a pity party.
This year is different. This year I face Mother’s day with thankfulness, and joy that I have this wonderfully crazy little M, who makes me a mother.
This year I also face Mother’s day with some dread, but a different kind of dread.
This year I am a mother. But someone else is not.
Someone else held my little girl first.
Someone else fed her when she was hungry, and wiped her tears away when she cried.
Someone else watched her sleep, and, I imagine, wondered what the future held for this little girl.
Someone else cared for her. And then, that someone let her go.
And so this Mother’s day, I will be celebrating with joy the fact that I am a mother.
And I will be grieving for a woman in China who is not. I hope she knows her little girl is loved.