Mother’s Day is always an interesting one. For some people, it is an absolute nightmare. For others, it is a day of great joy and celebration.
I believe because the woman is the vessel that carries the baby to term, she has a unique connection to her children. Of course, I cannot know how it feels to be a father…I can only speak from the perspective of the mother. I’ve given birth to three children. I adopted one child. And I lost one baby in a miscarriage. How each of these experiences has colored my life is a book in itself, and the best I can do is to share how much all of them have meant to me.
When I was only 19-years-old, one year into a new marriage, I found out I was pregnant with my first child. I was scared. I felt my parents wouldn’t approve of me dropping out of college to have a baby when I was barely more than a child myself. I remember that I didn’t even go to the doctor to find out if I was pregnant until I was well into my third month. I dropped out of school, after I couldn’t deal with morning sickness and trying to maintain a pretty shaky marriage and work. I had two maternity outfits…made by a family friend of a friend. I lived on cheap, greasy canned tuna and macaroni and cheese. For the first time in my life, I finally weighed in numbers with 3 digits…and I was 5 feet 6 inches tall. Looking back at pictures of myself during that year, I see how sad I was. I remember crying all the time….so much so, I worried if it would affect the baby. I worked long hours as a waitress and the check girl at the country club. In October, I went through 22 hours of labor and a drug known as “twilight sleep,” which has since been banned. It was not a pleasant or easy birth. Without going into details, just let me say that when nurses would come in to check on the stitches, they would make horrible contortions with their faces. I’ll never forget my brother’s first words when he saw me. “You look like you died!” I was in the hospital for nearly a week, recovering, but I had the most beautiful baby in the hospital. She was perfect…almost angelic. Nurses would go on and on about how gorgeous she was.
No one ever tells you how profound it is to hold a newborn baby for the first time. There are few words to describe the enormous feeling of love that chokes you up and takes your breath away as you stare into those big eyes…as you feel that tiny hand grasp your finger. It’s hard to believe such perfection could come from such pain, but in that instant, you forget the pain. The world stands still and the wiggling bundle in the tightly wrapped blanket makes a tiny squeaking sound that rattles you to the core of your soul. Tears well in your eyes as you search the room for the answer to that question, “Why didn’t anyone tell me I would feel this way?” Because no one can. You have to experience it to know a love that divine.
When my precious daughter was just past 2, I decided I wanted to have another child. At that point, I was starting to realize the marriage was not going to last, and I thought it would be good to have both my children from the same father, at the very least. In spite of his constant objections, I went forth, this time, intentionally trying to get pregnant. I was really happy, this time, and was thrilled when I got those first ”I know I’m pregnant” symptoms. I rushed to the calendar and calculated that this baby would be due around the same time as my mother’s birthday. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone, but thought I should give it one more week before saying anything. Just days before I was to announce my news to the family, I was outside, playing with Peyton (my daughter). We lived in a mobile home and she was running on the graveled road while I pretended to chase her. Suddenly, she stopped right in her tracks, without warning. In an effort to keep from knocking her down, I dove over her and landed hard on my stomach. That night, I lost the baby. I was devastated. I felt it was my fault…I should have known better. I was so, so sad.
Three months later, I was pregnant again. I was more careful this time, but almost lost this child, as well, after riding in a motor boat one day. The lake water was very rough, and the constant crashing into waves was jolting everyone in the boat. I had spotting, afterwards, but fortunately it finally stopped before it went too far. I cried and cried, begging God to let me keep this child, even though the morning sickness with this one was all but unbearable. God heard. In April of that year, I woke up with those familiar cramps. We had to drive 50 miles to the hospital, and my water broke about halfway there. I had done everything right this time. I took the Lamaze classes and planned on using no anesthesia. Unfortunately, after a quick checkup, the OB learned the baby was breech. After debating back and forth for a while, it was finally decided that a C-section was the best solution. As my precious son was delivered, we learned the cord was wrapped around his neck. He was quite blue and not breathing. I was oblivious, being heavily sedated, but my doctor was deeply concerned, because she was to perform a tubal ligation after delivering him. She hesitated, and just as she made the cut, he finally cried. She let out a huge sigh. I didn’t get to see my little boy for the first day after his birth. He was kept in ICU, and I was recuperating from the surgery. When they finally placed Ryder in my arms, I was overwhelmed with love, yet again. How blessed I was to have such perfect children.
Many years and another marriage later, I set about planning for a third child. My new husband had not had children with his first wife, and I so wanted him to have that experience…even though my tubes had been tied for over 6 years. I did the research, found a wonderful surgeon, and had my tubes reconnected. Only two months later, I was pregnant again. This pregnancy went very well, but since I’d been through so much already, the OB felt I should opt for a C-section again. So, we looked at that calender, and the only date she had available for the surgery was October 31…Halloween! I laughed and agreed, and after no labor pains for the first time, I had a remarkable delivery, with my husband right at my side. Just before he was delivered (I already knew I was having another son), a nurse asked me what I thought he would look like. I told her, “I think he’ll weigh 7 1/2 pounds, be 20 inches long and just watch, he’ll probably be a redhead!” LOL…I was right on all three accounts! Problems again, however! This child was jaundiced, and they had to keep him under lights for the first few days of his life. They brought him to me for nursing, but I had so wanted to be like the other mothers who got to keep the baby in the room with them. Once again, I cried as they took him out of my arms. A few days later, however, I got to take my very bronzed son, Gatlyn, home to meet his older siblings. Yes…it was love at first sight, yet again.
Dayna was born in 1995, and I was in the room as she, too, came by C-section. I gasped to see that she looked exactly like her mother…my older daughter, Peyton. On the drive to the hospital the day Dayna was born, I heard the song “Earth Angel” playing on the radio. I knew that meant all would be fine, and that soon became her nickname when she was around me. Although I was the grandmother, I felt a deep connection and bond to Dayna. I had a unique experience, this time, however. I got to watch my own daughter’s eyes glow as she held that tiny bundle for the first time. Peyton and Mike (Dayna’s father) both cried as they saw how perfect she was. I understood. This was a touchy situation, and I stayed with Peyton and Dayna for three weeks, settling them into a new apartment…without the father. Three and half years later, my daughter chose to do one of the most remarkable acts of unselfish love I’ve ever witnessed. She placed her little girl in our care, and agreed that the best thing for Dayna was to let her live with us. By the time Dayna was four, the adoption was final. Peyton has always played a huge role in Dayna’s life…and yes, she sometimes regrets making that decision…but we all agree that Dayna’s best interests are number one. Dayna turned 14 on Saturday…the day before Mother’s Day…and I realized how blessed all of us are to have each other. I understand Peyton’s regrets and concerns about whether or not she did the right thing, but I also see “our” beautiful little girl growing up to be an amazing young lady.
So…I’ve had many Mother’s Days in my lifetime. Some remarkably wonderful. Some incredibly sad. In the end, though, I can’t say I would change a thing. I know the blessings each one of these amazing children have brought into my experience. Yes, there are the bad times, also, but being a mother helps one tend to forget all the pain in the moment that adult child somehow remembers….forgives….and loves.
I will never know if my children realize how deeply I’ve loved each of them. I adored them at birth, and I still do. I look at them with eyes that understand their pain, but they cannot know that no pain is more painful than a mother watching her child hurt. When a mother says “this will hurt me more than it does you,” there is nothing but truth there. We die inside when they hurt…more than as if it were ourselves. I’ve cried tears of joy so overwhelming during the moments others recognized the magnificence of who they are, and I’ve cried tears of sorrow so gut-wrenching during those times when I felt they were mistreated. I have smiled at them when they needed to know I was there for them, and I have cried a thousand silent tears that they never saw. I’ve tortured myself when I said what I shouldn’t have, and I’ve sometimes withheld things that I wished I had said. I’ve always wanted to be everything they wanted me to be, but I’ve always felt less than what they expected. How many times do mothers say, “if only I had….?” It often seems, we will never get it exactly right. We try anyway.
For all the mothers who read these words, I honor and appreciate you for the many sacrifices and services gone unseen. For all the fathers who read these words, I encourage you to never forget how important this day is to the women in the world. We give much and receive little….and though we seldom ask for anything, we love it when you “just know.” To all the children who read these words, please understand that your mother loves you more than life itself…regardless of how she showed you that love. She did the best she could, and you can never know what unseen pain she might have been hiding so she could offer you that much-needed smile….whether it be hers, or someone else’s. If she wasn’t everything you dreamed a mother should be…just know we seldom are. But if you can take the time to look a little deeper, you will see the things she did were always offered to help you have a better life than she did. No woman gives birth and is untouched by that unspeakable awe that soon follows. We might not get everything right…but we do the best we can.
To my amazing, generous and beautiful mother….I offer the only words that can even come close to thanking you for all you’ve done for your children. I love you!
To my children…my hope is you will forget the moments I couldn’t be all that you wished I could, while remembering those precious moments we shared laughter, hugs, fun and love. Unfortunately, by the time we get the wisdom to realize those things we could have done so much better, you are well out on your own. We are sometimes offered a second chance, however…when you place our darling grandchildren in our arms…as you finally recognize that feeling we wanted you to experience. It is then you know…everything ever done had to come first from that unspeakable resonance felt in the heart as the baby lets out the first cry.
I want you to always know this…I have loved you every step of the way. With me, you can’t get things wrong. I have no ability to see anything less than your best, and it is toward that knowing I have pulled sometimes too hard. I have been blessed to be your mother, and I will be eternally grateful for having each of you in my life. You will always be a part of me…even when it appears I’m gone. A mother and child have an invisible cord that forever binds them, heart to heart. I’ve said “I love you” thousands of times, but I have never once said those words without deeply meaning them. Without you, dear ones, life would be incomplete. In you, I always saw my best contributions to this world.
I AM…Jodi/Mom/Grammy
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How symbolic it has been this past week to ride the roller coaster ride of emotions over the death of Michael Jackson. The advocate for Neverland must be revelling in the thrill ride of ups and downs, right? While some see it as a blessed event that has released him to the peacefulness and acceptance of Heaven, others see it as a well-deserved end for a criminal who molested children. Few can argue, however, that the music world has lost a legend.
