This weekend we celebrated my younger child’s 3rd birthday. It was full of the usual stuff: balloons, cupcakes, Thomas toys, and streamers. But what everyone didn’t know is that I was celebrating my own holiday in my head: Claire’s Mother’s Day.
I’ve sort of always hated the Mother’s Day that we celebrate in May. Ever since my own mother died 17 years ago, it’s a huge downer of a day, as I’m sure you can imagine. I thought maybe once I had my own kids that day would be less difficult because I would feel honored in a special way by my own little family. But what I discovered is that you think about your own Mom on that day no matter what. How can you not? It’s shoved in your face at every store and in every TV commercial for weeks: What are you doing for YOUR mother this Mother’s Day? <<Insert my stinging tears or impatient eye roll for the entire four week period preceding the holiday.>> That day will never be mine.
So a couple years ago I decided that my kids’ birthdays are really much better days to celebrate my own motherhood. Three years ago I was no longer pregnant and became a mom again! Three years ago I labored and felt pain and exhilaration. Three years ago I touched and smelled and kissed my baby boy for the first time. When I look at this photo I find it shocking that I didn’t even know who I was holding that day. How could I have known what an amazing, hilarious, challenging, generous, sensitive boy I would get to raise?
Being pregnant this year makes me even more excited about today. Next June I’ll get a whole new Mother’s Day where I’ll pause and pat myself on the back and tell myself, “Hey! Look what you made!”
So Happy Birthday, little boy. And Happy Mother’s Day to me!
Photo Source: Claire Goss