Give Her What She Wants
"Super Phones for Super Moms In Super Colors! (snip) Stay connected while she's at home, at work, or on-the-go!"(Verizon)
(Shakes box, holds it up to ear.) Hello? Hello? Can you Hear me?
"Make Mom Proud. Get her Gifts there on Time!" (1-800-flowers)
Proud?! Bella saying "please" and "thank you" makes me proud. To be frank, I'm not sure what if anything about Maddy makes me "proud." Punctuality is really the least of it, though. I think it's ok if children just show up live, frankly.
"Send Your Extraordinary Mother extraordinary flowers!" (Robertson's Flowers)
That would be funny, considering you're rather an extraordinary daughter.
"It's not too late! Get mom an e-gift!" (Mountain Gear)
Oh, it's too late. Believe me.
"What is the best gift you can give to mothers everywhere this Mother’s Day? Healthy, strong and thriving children!" (March of Dimes)
Oh Sweet Jebus, is that ever an understatement.
:::
Believe me, you can't give me what I really want. That would include time travel and metaphysics and alien life-transformative powers only seen in the worst movies from the cheeziest of magic wands.
What is it though, to want nothing on a day like this?
In my estimation, Mother's Day is one of those truly awkward holidays for everyone involved -- and for the record, I thought this long prior to February 2007. Interestingly, the early proponents of "Mother's Day" in America in the late 19th century, were peace advocates (and the woman who is most credited with advocating for a Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis, actually did so out of a longing to honor her dead mother). Mother's Day was proclaimed a National Holiday by Woodrow Wilson in 1914; an era when women probably heard tales of a generation not far behind that told of mother's losing sons in the Civil War. Mothers in the early 20th century may have known a loss of their own during WWI. Also interesting was discovering that Jarvis grew distraught at the rampant commercialization of the day she had for so long proposed:
Jarvis became known for scathing letters in which she would berate people who purchased greeting cards, saying they were too lazy to write personal letters. ---- MSNBC
Anyway, point being: the origins of this holiday, at least in this country, were already tangled with death -- the absence of mothers, the absence of grown children, gone off to serve their country. It was never meant to be a day where you bought diamond baubles or sent a Hallmark.
(Shakes box) If you're listening, I like sapphires better, anyway.
Because Mother's Day has become so ungodly commercial, it must, for it's economic livelihood, focus on the living. You cannot take a dead mother to brunch, buy her a cell phone plan, or send her a card. It puts pressure on daughters of mothers who neglected or abused, and I imagine, makes them wonder what they're missing -- having no one they'd really care to spend hard-earned money on.
Even for a day.
I could take you to breakfast, box, I suppose. You'd fit in my purse.
The flip side of this, of course, is that a dead child cannot purchase -- or, even imaginatively create -- you diamond studs or a necklace of twine, wood beading charms, and "flowers" (read: dandylion weeds). There is no entity there to cry through a meal of stuffed french toast, or hand you a self-picked bouquet of garden treasures (read: onion grass weeds and slightly molded azalea).
And there should be. Because you carried it, you birthed it, you longed for it. You probably longed for this day, the public outing at church, the family gathering where you could finally show your card at the door and receive admission into the club. The day that -- for a few hours -- put you on a pedestal, and gave you freedom to bitch about sleep deprivation and bask in gooey hugs and greetings.
This holiday is so difficult because while "everybody has a mother," the original intent of the matter has been lost: instead of merely thinking of or remembering yours, and contemplating the universal concept that everyone has a mother -- even the dead, we are supposed to buybuybuy and showshowshow. For those who have no mother to hug or greet, the effort seems lost in the application. I am so incredibly sorry if this holiday hurts you for this very reason.
And believe me, I'm also sorry if it hurts you because, although you're a mother, there's no son or daughter there to validate that simple fact.
Hallmark made it easy, Hallmark made it hurt.
:::
Mother's Day '06: We sat in a coffee shop chain, on a rainy day, with a realtor, and put a bid in for our house (which we got). Maddy was conceived sometime over that weekend.
Mother's Day '07: I am still crying at the drop of a hat, and implore everyone I know to please leave me be and ignore it. Bella is too young to even know. I garden in silence. I stupidly think I can play with radioactive material, and leave the card store with my stomach up in my throat, unable to buy my own mother a card.
Mother's Day '08: I like the idea of a day of gardening. I ask for this. Bella makes me something in school. For my mother, I finally settle on a donation to NILMDTS . She seems genuinely touched.
Mother's Day '09: Four years of ignoring this holiday has had the cumulative effect of not even realizing it was approaching. There was no anticpatory anxiety because I completely forgot about it until Bella announced that she was making me a surprise at school, "For Mother's Day. It's a Plate."
"Shhh! Shouldn't it be a surprise?"
"What's on it IS the surprise!"
She made me open it immediately upon arriving at home last Wednesday. That was fine with me.
Today I'm working in the yard. I should be out there right now, sowing seeds in our recession vegetable garden, watching the neighbors walk and drive by, dressed up on their way to brunch, the museum, the mall. We'll all work, we'll grill some burgers. This year, after getting gobsmacked by a series of articles and opinion pieces on women in far away countries who lack adequate medical care during and after labor who then suffer from Fistulas, I made a donation to the Fistula Foundation in my mother's honor. Because I guess now more than ever, I believe motherhood should be more about healthy AND live, mothers AND babies.
(Sets box back up in bowl on the top shelf.) I miss you. I miss you so much.
Call me.
:::
What are your feelings on this day -- or when Mother's Day falls in your country? What do you do to get through? Has babyloss changed how this day makes you respond to your own mother (regardless of that relationship)? Believe me when I say, I'm thinking of you all.
19 Comments
View Printer Friendly Version
Email Article to Friend
Reader Comments (19)
my very first Mother's Day was a week after Finn died, though. we planted the trees in the backyard that day, with a few ashes under them...it was as close to a funeral as we came.
so every Mother's Day after has seemed ridiculously pleasant and kinda...almost giddy by comparison. because i have been lucky.
but oh, how i still cringe at all the hype.
my mother's bubble burst (for me) when paige died. she's narcissistic, histrionic, borderline. i never really got it before, i just believed it was my fault because i was *mean, nasty, had no feelings, etc.* according to her. when paige died, the energy it took to deal with her bullshit was no longer available. it was like i came to see many things in the world clearly for the first time. the plug was pulled...
i think mother's day is kinda stupid. everyday is mother's day around here, and it's not always fun...but that's motherhood. it's real.
I feel like a horrible mother right now - with Liam and Ben's birthday just passed by a few days, I've been on-edge and pretty miserable. And so the concept of me being celebrated doesn't feel right. So I cooked supper for my parents, and bought my mom a pretty pair of earrings. Because I never once remember her raising her voice to us, and because she came over the other day when I completely fell apart.
I feel like I can't possibly be the mother she was. I say this to her through tears and she says she absolutely yelled at us, and she lost it, but she's as ineffective of a liar as I am.
I never like commercialized holidays. On Mothers' Day I just feel pushed to "perform"- and guess what, I just realized I forgot to call my mum over on the Asia continent to wish her a Happy Mothers' Day! That makes me feel crappy. I just think every day we should honor us and the world we live in. Why wait till Earth day/childrens' day or whatever blah-blah day?
Great post, as always, Tash. I hope Maddy calls, I really hope she does, somehow.
As for my own mother, our relationship has never been that great to begin with and now that my daughter is gone, it is worse. Our last conversation before yesterday she stated that "she hated watching me make myself sick over this" as if I could control my feelings or emotions. She also thinks that I should be "better" by now - it has only been 6 months...
Initially, I was not even going to call her, but since I do not like conflict and truly believe that I must be the change that I wish to see in the world, I went ahead and called. I told her Happy Mothers Day and her response was that "it was just another day" - gee thanks mom. Then she proceeded to dump all of her problems on me and I just sat and listened. So, in answer to your question, I don't really know what to say to her anymore and this is where my relationship with my mother has been since November.
Dh's mother died in 1982, & mine is some 1,500+ miles away. I send her a card & give her a call & she's happy.
We used to try to do the church & brunch thing, but after losing Katie, it just got way too painful. In recent years, our strategy has evolved -- in a nutshell -- avoidance, lol. We usually stay close to home or go to the movies (something grownup). Yesterday, however, we had to attend, of all things a BAPTISM. I survived, but there were more than a few "OUCH!" moments during the day.
This is exactly how I felt yesterday. It was rough. Instead of staying in bed, though, I decided to focus more on my own mother this year and I got excited and made her a triple-chocolate cake, which I knew that she would love.
But while we were in the other room, her puppy ate the entire thing and we spent the evening at the animal hospital. As is my life this past year.
I got my mother a present, an organizer unit I thought she'd like, then forgot it when I went over to visit. So next time I go over I'll take it, or possibly even send it home with my dad if he stops by on the way home from work. My parents got me a present - a food processor - that will help me immensely making the super-low-sodium foods that are necessary in the house, especially with me going back to school. But both my present to my mother and their present to me were things we though the other could use and a "holiday" gave us an excuse to give gifts.
We all went to the local (well, 3 hours away but it's the closest one) renaissance faire because it was something fun to do and we had tickets still anyway. Driving home, my son attempting to resist sleep in his carseat, that's when I started feeling sad. Like I'd been able to pretty much ignore the day until it was over. I should be chasing three children. I now know what happened, and I could theoretically have more children with some actually fairly mild medical assistance, but unless the .03% failure rate happens, I won't. I end up wondering lately if there will even be anything resembling a marriage left in a few years. Terrible to say, but true. So Mother's Day, good riddance. I can do without the whole thing. I love my mother, and I try to show that all the time; we live close enough I can go over and see her, and let her see her grandson, and we talk on the phone all the time. I think that's probably better all round than worrying about whether we do some kind of big holiday do.
I dread the school day thing, right now my son ignores it because the rest of us do. Schools like to theme things. But I've got a little while till we have to do that. Just need to shake myself and not add dreading that to my to-do list right now, and probably by the time he's in school it won't bother me so much. I hope.
Last year, I was terrified he would die in utero. The year before, his sister had.
But what made the day truly wonderful is that when I arrived at my mother's house for a potluck brunch for all the family's mother's, my mom was crying.
She'd just heard the song "Georgia" on the CBC and it reminded her of my lost baby, Georgia.
Nothing she could have done would have touched me more on Mother's Day.
i started the tears on fri with a neg preg test. wooohooo! yeah, perfect way to begin this holiday.
both of our mother's decided not to celebrate in protest. i refused to call anyone or even really acknowledge the day. some people were sweet, i got some beautiful emails and texts and phone calls. but most people chose to pretend it wasn't even happening and said and did nothing to make me feel better. i guess they were scared.
last year i had silas in my belly and i still didn't feel like i should celebrate this holiday. this year without silas, i was lost. i didn't know what to do. but chris was super sweet and did everything in his power to make me feel special.
these last few weeks have been brutal- our bdays, mother's day & our memorial to silas next weekend. ugh. its like one big screw you.
Despite my best efforts, i was wished happy mother's day, twice, by the automated 411 lady. And by our toll taker who leaned down past my sis, a blooming mother of 3,and who was driving, to shout at me: "happy mother's day over there!" Why?
The real highlight was the mother's day card from my mom. It was a sentimental card with a beautiful note about how much she loves me and how she's so impressed with my stepmommying. But on the card itself she CROSSED OUT THE WORD "MOTHER" and wrote in "stepmama." She means well, she really does. She just, um, doesn't really know what she's doing.
Mother's Day over here was about a month ago. I ignored that one too. At least I told myself that's what I was doing. Sort of a head in the sand attitude, but it got me through.