Maternity

For me, the focus for Mother’s Days past was almost always about my own mother. We didn’t always celebrate together but you can be sure that I had a card with pansies or some other purple loveliness in the mail to her for that Sunday. Sometimes there were some fun or sentimental gifts; one year I gave her a metal tree that held small frames of family pictures on its branches. If I wasn’t in the vicinity to celebrate with my mom, Mother’s Day was often celebrated at either my or my sister’s house. A short 30 miles away, she or I could make the trip easily to one another’s homes. But now that they are both gone, celebrating is bittersweet; it’s sad and emotional and when I head into the greeting card section around the beginning of May, tears, unbeckoned—and frankly unexpected—show up in my eyes and I feel a catch in my throat.

Not that recent celebrations of the day haven’t been filled with love or mimosas. But, lately I’ve been thinking that even though being a mom has been the richest experience of my life (and I am still a mom—a grand mom, too) it feels a little bit like Mother’s Day should be about the moms in the trenches. The ones who are packing lunches, driving to soccer games, managing full-time jobs—2nd full-time jobs—and negotiating the rigors and demands of just being a woman in our world right now. My attention is drawn to my daughters, whom I’ve written about before, but who continue to amaze me with the way they demonstrate their maternity.

Annie has been a mom for over ten years and Justine has been a mom for over five years. Annie’s son Luca is one of the most interesting and thoughtful humans I know—even at ten. Justine’s twins Maddie and Aiden reveal quite different personalities--Maddie is curious and fierce; Aiden is prudent and precise. At least that’s how they come across to me; I haven’t spent nearly the time with the twins as I have with Luca, their living in Arizona will do that, but we’ve tried to stay connected through Facetime and infrequent visits.

I believe the reason these children are so fascinating and secure are because Annie and Justine understand that the role of being their mother is crucial and undeniable. Justine brought her children into the world after a lengthy and frightening stay in the hospital, after which she had to leave them in a NICU until they grew strong enough to come home. When I went to visit her soon afterwards, I wasn’t sure what I’d find; after such a dramatic pregnancy and birth I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had been curled up in a ball on the couch! She was on the couch, but armed with an electric pump and a rigorous schedule for visiting and caring for her new babies. I saw in her a quality I didn’t know existed—and couldn’t have known before this: she was a mother.  And a really good one, too.

Annie has always guided Luca with a fair and open heart and that has been no more evident these last so many months as she’s navigated her battle with breast cancer. Again…I would have expected curling up into a ball on the couch a reasonable response, but she has taken every treatment, setback, new decision and demanding appointment schedule in stride. The way she’s handled it all has helped Luca see that even though she has to fight this disease, he can still count on her to be there for him. When she has to take time to rest, she includes him in a way that allows him to feel both cared for and able to help her. It’s an amazing skill to create that kind of balance.

Both women have an instinctive knowledge of their children that I’m not sure I had when I was raising mine. Merriam-Webster defines maternity as the quality or state of being a mother and that’s exactly what appears to have happened with them: They have catalyzed into another state of existence without losing who they are as individuals. Along with their maternal responsibilities they both work in demanding jobs, maintain personal relationships, participate in their communities and have a solid sense of social justice and equity. And they’re raising their children to be just the same.

Annie and Justine were friends before they were sisters; daughters before they were mothers. And on this Mother’s Day—and every single one for the foreseeable future--they are the moms I celebrate.