Mothers Day Now

I edit photo's, write and surf the internet, all at a small, dark wood desk, and I sit in a very large, wide, cozy, masculine chair. There is nothing on the wall in front of me, except a large, bulky clock that hangs above me. The look of my desk is a lot like how I would describe my style. Clean, classic and minimal. There are only three things on my desk. A monitor, my laptop, and a candle. It is my favorite candle. When I write, or am going through my photo's, this candle burns. Tonight, as I was sitting at my desk, trying to change my focus from Mothers Day heart ache and hurt, to the happiness and fun in these pictures, I glanced over at the flame, burning on the wick, and I just stared and let my thoughts wonder.

Candle on my desk

This candle is my favorite because, to me, it smells of happiness. It smells of love. It smells of home. As I stared at the reflection of the flame, that bounced around the jar, I struggled to feel the happiness that is usually evoked by this fragrance. The love that the aroma reminds me of, instead, made me feel so sad. The comfort of home, that I feel, when this candle burns, I just felt uneasy, and uncomfortable. I have felt this all day. But, tonight, as I try to work, I am caught off guard by this flame, and I just start to cry.......again, as I reflect on my role as a mother to my children, and the expectations that I have placed upon myself, that I feel I have not reached, and may never reach. As I stare at this candle, I reflect on the Mothers Days that have passed, and compare them to what I'm feeling today.

Mothers Day. Mothers Day used to always be full of excitement, and expectation of what my sweet husband, and cute kids were planning for me. We never did anything huge for Mothers Day, or Fathers Day. We try really hard to let the kids express their appreciation to their parents in ways they want to. It always turns out so cute, and adorable, and any other word that describes them. It's always quirky, and the gifts and expressions are always so unique to each child, that you can't help but appreciate each one of the gifts given.

Sarah making me my first Mothers Day gift

I fondly remember my first Mothers Day, after I had Sarah. She was 8 months old. Allan had taken Sarah to his parents house the day before, to do something for me, for a gift from her. The morning of Mothers Day, he let me sleep in a while, and then he brought our sweet first born daughter in to wake me up, and give me her special present to me. It was a poster board that said "I love you Mom", and next to those words were her hand and foot print, and her 8 month old art work. In 2009, I had 3 children, Sarah (3), Lucas (2) and Taylor (5 months). The kids had made me flowers out of play dough, and the peddles that surrounded the center of the flower, were formed with their finger prints, pressed into each peddle. I still have them in my box where I keep all of the cards that I have received. In 2011, however, I remember receiving flowers, and I think Allan and I went out to dinner. That was the year that Mothers Day became difficult.

In 2011, Mothers Day was on May 8. Just 3 1/2 months prior, I had given birth to my 4th child, Eleanor, still born. In 2011, I found it difficult to celebrate myself, for anything. It had become hard to accept any praise for my work as a mother. While I had 3 wonderful, smart, beautiful, thriving children that I was so proud of........I felt that I had tainted all of that by the death of my 4th child. Not only did I feel responsible for her death, but I also felt responsible for the death of a piece of my surviving children's innocence. I did NOT want to be celebrated, because I felt like I was not one of the mothers who deserved a day of pampering, love, doting, and praise.

It is now, 2013. And for Mothers Day, my husband gave me what I've been asking for. He gave me a weekend, alone, in a hotel room. He gave me silence, and space, and just time for me. My sister did come out to stay with me at the hotel. My other friend, Amy, was also able to meet me for one of the days, and spent it with us at the spa, getting our nails done, eating yummy food by the pool, and just relaxing and chatting. I felt so grateful for 2 of my best friends, to recognize that I needed them to help me laugh, have fun, and just relax. I needed them to help me feel loved, special and deserving. On the last full day, sitting by the pool with my sister, I got up, walked over to the pool, and sunk my body in the perfect temperature water. I watched all of the families playing with their children. Teaching them to swim. Helping them feel brave, and secure, as they jumped in a pool for the first time from the side. Watching the older men, standing in the pool, tossing a football back and forth. Listening to the noises of joy and happiness. As I sat alone in that pool, I teared up, because I feel like my children finally have some of that joy back. I feel like my husband doesn't worry about his wife so much, and finally has some genuine happiness in his family life, career and his marriage again. For a moment, even, I felt happiness while I imagined what each of my children would be doing in the pool, and wishing they were there to experience this with them. That feeling of not deserving to be celebrated left me for just a few minutes, and it was wonderful.

Today, after checking out of the hotel, I drove out to the cemetery to visit my little Eleanor. That feeling of happiness that I felt the day before, was nowhere to be found. Instead, it was silent, and still. I knelt in front of her headstone, bowed my head, and prayed. I had no purpose for the prayer, except to talk to my Father, and give him a message for my daughter, from her mommy. After I said "Amen", I put my hand on her headstone, covering some of the letters of her name, and just cried. And all that I could say was, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry that I didn't protect you." I knelt there for quite a while, sobbing, and continuing to ask for forgiveness from my child. Finally, after sitting in front of her headstone for a little while crying uncontrollably, I picked my head up and wiped my tears. I wiped the grass off of her beautiful name. I told her, "Mommy loves you so much, my angel girl", and got up and walked away. I drove around for the next little while, crying on and off.

After I left, I decided to try to make myself feel better by bringing my friend a gift for Mothers Day. Doing something for others has always made me feel love and happiness in my heart again. This year, my sweet friend has been really stressed with trying to balance work, school and her family that is growing up quickly, and leaving home. I have felt her desperation to want to not miss anything, since she can tell that time is so limited, but she has to miss a lot, to continue to move her life forward. Something that I want, is moments with my daughter, and to watch her be raised with my other children. I figured, something that she wants is almost the same thing....moments with her husband and children, to look back on, and remember. Memories. So, I brought her a picnic basket, and a picnic blanket, and a few Diet Cokes (that's just always a given). I can't give time, but I can help make memories, and sometimes the simplest things, like a picnic at a park, or even in the backyard, become the moments that we remember forever. Those are the moments that I cherish the most. She was at church when I stopped by, so I left everything for her on her porch, with a card, and drove away. I felt happy that I was able to do something for someone else, and hopefully bring them a bit of joy, and let them know that someone loves them, and is thinking of them. But as I drove home, I started to cry again, thinking of my small moments.......my picnic moments. Any time that I think of moments that I have had with my family, and moments that I cannot wait to have with my family, I am continually stabbed in the heart with the fact that there will always be one child that I will not get to watch experience those moments. Every time one of my children has a first time at something, I will always know that I will not get to see the expression on another child's face of their first time experiencing it. The first time they go on a swing. The first time they feel grass on their feet. The first time they ride their bike down grandma and grandpa's driveway. The first time they get to help mommy lick the bowl. The first time they go swimming. And I will  never get to hear the first time they say "Mama". So, for every happy moment, there are always those sad reminders.

I drove home today, trying to dry my face, and wipe away make up that had run down my cheeks. I walked in the door and was greeted by my children. Sarah, screaming, "Mommy!!", as she ran towards me to hug me. Taylor, following Sarah and wrapping his arms around my legs, and letting out a "mmmmmm" as he squeezed me. Lucas, quietly waiting behind the other 2 kids, for his turn to be acknowledged, and asked for a hug. And then Allan came in with Elliott, who immediately lunged for me, layed his head on my shoulder and stayed there for 10 minutes, afterwards, giving me kisses, over and over again. The kids were excited to show me the red roses they bought for me the night before, with daddy, and the pictures they drew just for me. Lucas drew 2 stick people hugging, that were me and him, and we were at the park, and it was sunny. :) Sarah drew an elaborate picture of her and I sitting on the grass, under the sun "just talking and snuggling". And Taylor attempted to draw me a whole bunch of Batman guys, which he was unhappy about how they turned out, and wasn't happy to show me. After the excitement calmed, I sat down at the island in the kitchen, and I cried again, because of having that hole in the family. Because of not feeling deserving of their love, and praise, and pride for me, as their mother, and because I felt like I killed their sister. My sweet husband didn't have to ask what was wrong, or try to make me feel better. He just walked over and hugged me while I cried, just knowing everything I was feeling, and knowing that this day is hardest for me. That was one of the best hugs I've gotten in a while.

So, tonight, I sit and try to push down the emotions of Mothers Day. I sit in my big chair, at my simple desk, in front of my monitor, trying to edit photo's, but instead get distracted by the flame of a candle. I reflect on Mothers Day's past, and where I'm at now. I'm still very sad, and this day is still very difficult. Anytime someone says, "Happy Mothers Day!" to me, it feels like a dagger in my stomach, because I don't feel deserving. But, as I reflect on those Mothers Days before, I appreciate the simplicity of the gifts, affection, and praise more than I did, even on the day those gifts were given. I appreciate them more now, than before, because I know what it feels like to wish you had those memories. I know that in the blink of an eye, those opportunities for memories can be taken away, only leaving you with the desire and longing for them. While the elaborate gifts of flowers, chocolates, cars (yea, that happens!), gadgets, spa days, gift cards and what not, are thoughtful and given with loving intentions, I think it's the simple notes, crayon drawings, flowers picked out by your 6 year old son, and hugs by your children that make it all mean so much more. Those are the moments that I will remember when its my childrens turn to start leaving the house for college, missions, marriage and life adventures. That drawing of Batman, those play dough flowers, and those pictures of dirty, paint filled baby fingers are what I will cherish more than anything.

Before it's time for me to blow this candle out, turn off my computer, and put myself into bed, I will take the time to experience one of my other favorite times. Going into each child's room, making sure they are comfortable, covered and warm, and kiss their foreheads goodnight, one last time. And as I lay down in my own bed, in the dark, I will pray to my Father in Heaven, to please tuck my daughter in, make sure she's comfortable, give her a kiss on her forehead, and tell her that her mommy loves her.