Today is Mothers’ Day. I have very mixed, bittersweet emotions today.
My mother is traveling home from Florida and a visit with my brother. This is the first Mothers’ Day in at least eleven years that we have not spent together.
My mother-in-law came over and we went out to lunch, but my husband is sick(ly) today and everything was just sort of ho-hum.
My stepmother, well, we never see her today. We had dinner with them Friday and I will take her gift to her on Tuesday.
I received a new running shoe charm for my charm bracelet, since (apparently?) I am a runner now. And the kiddo brought me a GIANT coffee mug with a flower in it this morning, and on the way home from church said, “happy Mama’s day” about a hundred times.
But all day, and all day yesterday, and many days before that, I have wondered about Little Man’s birthmother. Where is she? Is she safe? Is she happy? Is she with her other children? Does she particularly miss Little Man on a holiday like this (does she ever miss him?)? Does she wonder about him?
I miss S. Our relationship was so brief, although it will last forever. I want to talk to her on this day. I want to tell her of all the things that make our son so special. I want her to know how loved he is, how wonderful he is, how many people adore him, how smart he is.
I want her to hear his singing praise songs to Jesus. I want her to watch him run around and try to learn to peddle his tricycle. I want her to hear his near constant narration of his life. I want her to know just how much of her musical talents she has passed on to him.
Today is so sweet because I do get to see those things, and hear those things, and have his heavy little body in my lap and his sweaty little arms around my neck. But today is also bitter, because in order for me to experience his life, someone else had to choose to not experience it. And that makes me sad for her and sad for him.