My first Mother's Day.
A lie. This isn't my first, it's my fourth. It's just the first one when I was included in "Happy Mother's Day!". It's my first Mother's Day that I didn't celebrate alone. The first when I didn't wonder if I should stand or accept flowers, because, doesn't that make it awkward? The first when I didn't get asked, "Do you consider yourself a mother? Should I get you something?"
There are those that acknowledged me as a mother before, it's not as if no one cared or no one realized or understood. But in society you're not one of the "Mother's Day Moms" until you have a big belly or a living child. There are so many more moms than we realize, because so many of those mom's never got to meet their baby. For PGAL (Pregnant After A Loss) moms, Mother's Day will always be bittersweet. There will be chubby hands with flowers and a big breakfast and wet kisses. There will also be sets of hands missing, flowers that didn't get picked, and empty spots at the table. You struggle with aching for your missing baby, or babies, while knowing that if they had lived the one you have probably wouldn't be here. It's a mix of emotions and some days it's easier to forget than others.
This was the first Mother's Day that was bittersweet instead of sad. There was joy mingled in my grief, and though my heart aches for my little ones that were lost, I wouldn't trade my life for anything. Money, naivety, health, or control. Because I treasure who I've become and how I've changed and where I am in God. I treasure those moments we had with our babies. The moments, however fleeting, that we were a family. If I could speak to them now I would tell them, "I'm glad I knew about you."
To my sisters, the mothers that don't get recognized on Mother's Day, know that you are mommies. As much as anyone else. Fighters and warriors and the bravest women I know, your struggle is not forgotten, and neither are you.
