Ragged Edges of Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day. I got breakfast in bed (let it be known: the man can cook) and have a few minutes to myself this morning. Over the years Mother's Day has become increasingly important to me. Really, it's more important to me than my birthday. I guess so much of my headspace, time, and heart are devoted to my role as mother that it feels good to have what I do and am acknowledged. But Mother's Day is emotionally loaded... Today, is Abby's 5th birthday. We celebrated yesterday, and I could hardly believe in the remembering that the journey that brought her to us really began almost 7 years ago. How could that be? Adoption, Abby's adoption story, and our adoption journey continues to be one of the narratives that most profoundly effects my life and outlook. The story can be told from many perspectives, and the one that I am struck by today is that Abby turns 5 on Mother's Day, and somewhere back in Denver she has a birth mom that hasn't seen her since her day of birth. Of course, she couldn't, and can't parent. Yet, I wonder about her sometimes. I am so profoundly grateful for the opportunity to love our little girl, but Mother's Day has ragged edges for Abby's birth mom. I know it, and today in the joy there is just a little sad too. Also, I'm thinking of my mother-in-law, for whom I am profoundly grateful. I lucked out in the mother-in-law department and scored not only an amazing husband but a woman that kinda rocks as a grandma and is so easy and fun to be around. This Mother's Day must be hard for her, because her mom passed away. G.G. King was a sweetheart who has needed care nearly all of Eddie's life. For years - decades - my mother-in-law has mothered her mom. I am sure she is is sad. And how then does one shelf the confusing roll of daughter/mom she has handled with grace for so many years? Again, the ragged edges of motherhood... A country away my baby sister sits ripe to popping with a 4th child she will welcome and love with her whole heart, though this little guy was a surprise she hadn't planned for. And, only half a country away, my other sister juggles the complexity of being a full time mom and having a career in the grown-up world too. Motherhood, is not tidy; it is a complicated, heart-rending thing. My mom is far away today. She was a good mom, the kind that had warm cookies waiting when we got home from school. She was the mom that kept the kitchen stocked with teenage friendly food, and made our home a place our friends liked to hang out. Smart woman. She is far away today. My mom did the job of mothering well, and in doing so sort of worked herself out of a job. She is the one that taught me that being a mom is having your heart walk around outside your body ( and in my mother's case, having your heart walk around in 3 different states simultaneously). Her mother heart hasn't changed but the daily-ness of her roll has. That feels like the ragged edges of motherhood too. I read, just recently, a blog that said most poignantly what I am trying to say. The author described a piece of art that portrayed a mother and her ducklings in a nest. The tag line told the story of moms everywhere. "The mother duck lines her nest with down she has pulled from her own chest." Isn't that the way of it? Good moms line the nest with down that they have pulled out of the best of themselves. It's love this giving of the best. But , frankly, that momma duck had bald patches on her chest. And had she been human and on the shiny pages of a grocery store magazine, someone would surely have photoshopped the heck out of her. And so doing lost the beauty of story. The San Francisco Bay Area is a cosmopolitan region, and having four kids is like signing up to be the traveling exhibit of the freak show. The bald patches feel conspicuous here. I feel like Eve in the garden with not a shred to wear - naked with the vulnerability of motherhood. Who would have thought the simple act of lining a nest with down would feel so flagrantly counter-cultural? So this motherhood thing, it's more than a gig. It's a statement, and a quiet rebellion. Here's to bald patches and ragged edges!