The Awkward Mother's Day Thing

Not every time, but sometimes this Mother's Day thing feels awkward.

What I want to tenderly ruminate about is all the warmth and goodness of my own mothering experience; to encourage and inspire Moms who are in the thick of it right now; to celebrate the nobility and dignity and strength of what it means to be the feminine parent; to honour the memory of my own Mom.  

All that stuff.  

Like what's in the Mother's Day cards.

And sometimes I can do that.  

Sometimes, though, I feel the weight of all the legitimate and deeply regretful mothering mistakes I made, and what seems to me such an unfair system where you get handed a vulnerable human being that you're not only supposed to keep alive, but are expected to raise into a competent, thoughtful, contributing member of society.  I want to register a complaint somewhere because it seems ridiculous that, when my body was best suited for childbearing, my life experience was sadly lacking.  But if I waited until I was wise enough to actually know how to raise a child with minimal damage inflicted, my physical self would thwart all those good strategies.  Awkward.

Sometimes Mother's Day is awkward because of the absence of a child.  Due to loss, the gut-punch likes of which my family has experienced first hand.  Or due to infertility or other life circumstance, a soul-sinking pain carried by friends, and you can't help but feel it with them.  Especially on awkward days like today.

Then there's the unique awkwardness of sorting out the complexities of my own little girl story, and what it was like to be raised by a Mom who, through absolutely no fault of her own, had suffered a traumatic brain injury as a child, the effects of which brought both blessings and challenge, and also contributed to the oldest (that's me) being shaped into a parentified child at a very early age.  Those blessings (such a gentle, sweet, never-said-a-bad-word-about-anyone-until-dementia-set-in woman) and challenges (assorted and nuanced and not necessary to describe here) followed us in our relationship until her passing, now more than 10 years ago.  That was, even at the very end, so awkward, since I was half a planet away.

I will most certainly not get hired by Hallmark for writing this post (although I have often thought there should be a section in the card racks entitled "Honestly Speaking," but never mind).   And I run the risk of spoiling it for readers who are actually having a perfectly lovely Mother's Day.  Sorry about that.  Please enjoy your day.

I have already been lovingly and appropriately remembered by my children, and even my husband this Mother's Day.  So none of this is coming out of any sense of being overlooked as a Mom.  Not by any means.  They give me far more credit than I deserve.  

But these feels were really feely this particular Mother's Day.  And I wonder if anyone feeling similarly awkward might just need to know that they're not alone.

Which is probably the best gift any Mom in any stage and any situation can be given.  It takes a village to raise a child....and to help lessen all the honest awkwardness of motherhood.

However it's going for you this year, keep it real.  And I hope you get whatever your soul needs to mark this day.