Open Adoption Roundtable #38: What I want to say to you on Mother's Day.

From the Open Adoption Bloggers: Roundtable #38:  What I want to say to you on Mother's Day.

Write to someone else in the adoption constellation (someone specific or a general group). What do you want to say to them on Mother’s Day?



HARD. Hard. Hard. This hurts. And maybe it should. Maybe this is something I've needed to 'say' - even though I don't think you read my blog.

 I love (and hate) Mother's Day. Sometimes I feel like it should be about me, not you. Sometimes I know it's about both of us.


So, this is how I feel about Mother's Day- right now. But it still hurts come Sunday morning.

It hurts because I do the 'work' day in, day out. I hold Bugs' hand when he's throwing up with his fevers, or when he wakes up scared. I work HARD to be a mom. I sometimes get only an hour of sleep before I have to climb out of bed and make lunches, get dressed, go to work, come home make dinner and keep Bugs (and the girls) clean-ish looking, make sure he does his homework, get him back and forth to his activities.


Being a mom is hard. Being a 'mom' is something so important and yet so intangible. Sometimes, honestly here, I feel like I am the "only" mom. Sometimes I know I am not his only mom. 

Oh, those 'only me' days aren't often; BUT, they are the days when you haven't called him in weeks- then you call him from the bar so your friends hear you saying, "I love you and miss you soooo much." Or, when you tell him calling is too expensive- and he hears "I'm not worth it to her. But going to the bar and taking 100 pictures to post on facebook is." Or, when you used to tell him you'd be here, then not show up for hours- and lie to your family about it. Or skip picking him up completely because you'd rather go to a party with Scott. On those days, I never, ever, felt you were his "mom". Not even a bit. You had given birth to him, and that was special, but on those days, I did not feel you gave him the respect a mother would give to her children. You didn't treat him as though he mattered to you at all. 


Then there are the days when I KNOW you are a mother, and how hard it was being pregnant and 19. How scary it was raising a child for two years (even with total support from your parents and D's- it couldn't have been easy). Giving birth. Trying to breastfeed. Those are not things that can be dismissed- even when I disagree with so much that came afterwards.


So Mother's Day hurts. And it's hard. The only things I ever want for Mother's Day are craft made by the kids. I want someone to think I am special enough to sit down and help the children make them for me, to honour how difficult it has been, how hard I work, and what a good mom I am. And often, no one does. But year after year, your mother helps Bugs make you something. Year after year, you receive a gift in the mail, a gift I wish I could have. A gift I would be thrilled to have (not that I don't like perfume or cards and crap like that). A gift I'm not convinced you give two flying effs' about. 


The last time Bugs made me something, was a necklace that said " I LOVE MOM" on it. I wore it for two whole years, never once taking it off, because I loved it, and it reminded me of him. I would still be wearing it if the leather hadn't gotten so weak I was afraid it would break. He made you something similar a year later with my help, for Christmas, and you didn't ever wear it. Because it didn't match your outfits. I remember the day, you said, "You always wear that? Really? I haven't worn mine- the soccer balls look funny with all my earrings. hahahahaha."


So, Mother's Day is a day that hurts; because I wish you put as much energy into showing him how much you love him, as you do towards convincing your friends you love him. It's a day that hurts because since you've moved to Scotland- you have gone through so many phases of trying and then not trying that leave Bugs hurting and waiting, and hurting and waiting. And he loves you, and I love you.

So, I love Mothers' Day; because we are both an integral part of him, of who he is, and we both matter, and I'm glad for the days when we can all hang out together and go swimming in the summer. I love Mother's Day, for all the times we've sat up laughing on the phone over something completely unrelated to our child. For all the times we've spent hours hashing out what we think is best for Bugs.


So, Happy Mothers' Day to both of us- for all that you did, for all that I do. For all that we do together to raise a healthy, happy, well adjusted young man.