Today is a trickyÂ one. It’s a beautiful day – one that is dedicated to all the mothers of the world. I am lucky enough to have the most sensationalÂ mama in my life, so I try to make today All About Her. Today is the day I honor my momÂ the same way I have done so annuallyÂ for 30+ years. I try to ignore the fact that, by now, I should be in the league of all blessed women like her. I even ignore the fact that two of my sisters received cards and presents today because they are lucky enough to be mothers. I am an ostrich, sticking her head in the sand. Today is, what, a day for Nancy, my glorious mom? Fine by me.
I am trying not to think about the fact that this was supposed to be my first Mother’s Day. This was going to be My Year, when the cards would pour in and my husband would get me some flowers, and I’d walk around feeling a little bit sanctimonious and fabulous. But I’m not there yet. My baby lasted a short while, andÂ didn’t make it, and my due-date in October came and went, and here I am, another year on Mother’s Day.Â Without the title I frantically crave.
My friend,Â Miss B,Â wrote me a little while ago. She has struggled, cried and hurt for years on end â€“ waging her hard-fought battle toward parenthood. And she pleaded with me, â€œBut Cam, we are mothers. We are.â€
If itâ€™s there in our hearts, and we nurture and believe and hope and loveâ€¦and care for and cuddle and pray and cherishÂ the little ones in our life (the real, the no longer, and the not here yet), then we are mothers.
And her reasoning stunned me,Â and freed me, all at once. I started making progress that started with: I am not not a mother.
And today, I want to go the distance. IÂ have decided I willÂ not allow myself to feel so lonely and leftÂ out. I am an aunt, a sister, a daughter and a wife. And I will say, without equivocation, I am a mother.