You may have noticed I did not say "Happy Mother's Day". Why? Well, Mother's Day has so many emotions for me.
Once upon a time, I celebrated Mother's Day with my mom and my grandmother. That was when I was little. Entering my adult years and there were a lot of changes in dynamics of my relationship with both. My grandmother had alzheimer's developing and was slowly starting to forget me. My mother and I, well, just grew apart. I guess that is putting it the nice way.
I was married at 19 years old. After one year of marriage, we decided to try for a baby. Well, that was a nice idea. Unfortunately I would be diagnosed with polycystic ovarian symdrome. A devastating diagnosis for someone so young that wanted to be a mom. Slowly I started the fertility testing process. As I was seeing doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, my hopes of having a biological child was looking dimmer and dimmer.
All of my friends at this time were having children of their own. So many babies surrounding me. Then babies turned into toddlers and I was about out of hope.Mother's Day was more of a sting than a nice day to celebrate. Cashiers giving out flowers to all the "Mom's" on Mother's Day, and me trying everything in my power to not run out of the store bawling my eyes out.
Along came adoption and it would be the answer to all of my prayers. I would finally be a mom!! My first Mother's Day was rather exciting for me. I would finally have someone making me something with the word Mom on it and it would be actually MEANT for me! I think that was the last time I ever looked forward to Mother's Day.
Does this sound harsh? Probably. My original two, the twins, would later be diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) among a slew of other diagnoses. None of the things they were diagnosed with was ever their fault, rather it was done to them. It is difficult raising children that have RAD while reminding yourself daily that their behavior is the result of neglect or abuse from someone else.
Every year it would get harder and harder. Sabotage is a word that is used around just about every holiday in our household. Children with RAD tend to act out while at home, usually worse toward the mother. In public or at other family events, no one could understand our frustrations.
Mother's Day then became a day I didn't feel worthy of because my children had behaviors and outbursts at the house that rarely anyone saw. Other's would look at me and tell me that I'm being too strict, too difficult, or whatever other insult they could throw my way. And trying to explain any of the disorders they were diagnosed with to any of them was a waste of time.
Five years after I adopted, I was blessed with the birth of my first biological child. I had hopes that maybe Mother's Day would change for me by this. Alas, still sabotage, still being cut down, still being cold shouldered by family that should have embraced me and asked how they could help.
Fast forward two years and then came my second biological child. Maybe NOW I would feel something. Alienation still reigned! I had learned by this point to hold on tight to the friends that believed me, the friends that saw what I saw and be a listening ear for anyone else going through my pain.
I have actually in the last couple of years changed how I personally celebrate Mother's Day. Not having one at my side has truly been a hard pill to swallow, but then there never really was a close connection. The vision I had of what a mother should be is not what I was given. My grandmother and I were incredibly close and I so terribly wished she got to see my girls. Alas, that did not happen, and I had to move on.
So, I chose instead to celebrate the reasons I was able to be called Mom. I didn't need presents, although their dad took them shopping for "them" to pick out gifts. Most times I let THEM pick out where we were going to eat. I let them do what they wanted to on this day because if it wasn't for them, I would never have the title I proudly claim today.
This Mother's Day has been no different than the others. I was supposed to pick up my son from college on Saturday, but he called me and begged to stay one more night to hang out with some friends. I told him that was fine and I would be there bright and early Sunday morning because we had plans for lunch back home.
I got there later than I had originally planned, but still enough time to make it back and see the girls too. Unfortunately, my request was not fulfilled. I was mad. I was enraged. I was hurt. This is supposed to be a day to celebrate, and here again, sabotage. Instead of letting it ruin my day, I chose to leave him there to finish the task he was supposed to already have done, and I went shopping!
I have to remind myself still today that it is not him, it is what was done TO him and I cannot hold that against him. We finally got loaded up and started our journey home. He packed his phone and couldn't find it so it forced conversation between us. He was excited to tell me about his plans for next year, who he was excited to get back to see, and about some of the fun he hadn't already filled me in on.
Of course, he fell asleep...but was awoken to the sounds of me screaming at a driver in front of us going 30 mph in a storm (that was honestly not that horrible) and slowed down even more if a car passed her. We finally made it home. The looks on his sister's faces and the excitement in their voices erased every bad thought I had earlier in the day. Both of the girls ran to him and jumped in his arm and he greeted them with the biggest hugs ever.
Shortly after that, the arguments between them began where they left off last fall. For a day I totally despise, it turned out ok. I got to be with the reasons I am called mom, and they showed me how appreciative they were of their siblings by a single act of love. This may have possibly been the best sabotaged Mother's Day yet. I am SERIOUSLY not challenging next year to top this year...I can't even begin to think about that though. Memorial Day sabotage is right around the corner!
