A Mother's Day Post

My take on motherhood, in a season of separation.

My first Mother’s Day without my mom (and without my kids, since they are really not kids and have other stuff going on.) Nevertheless, I’m feeling compelled to sit in contemplation and capture the essence of mother-child connectedness, if only a sliver of its magnitude. Mothers carve into the shape of us—and represent a bond that even death and separation can’t bring to an end.

We’ve always rolled our eyes at crazy, over-the-top Mother’s Day cards—idyllic notions of blissful relationships that don’t exist in the real world. No one in my family has been capable of pretending that we were living the dream, so instead of trying to find the ‘perfect’ card, we’d often settle for a syrup-filled verse that would have us all gagging and chuckling. In my opinion, the ideal of a self-less, perfectly loving mother has been the source of so much shame and judgment that only makes us less available to those we most want to love, unconditionally.

So what is the point of motherhood, if not a failure to anticipate and provide the perfect concoction of what everyone else needs— and look good doing it? Is there a point to this set-up besides having a good laugh about how our mothers failed us, and we fail our own?

For me, it’s been a precious and terrifying opportunity to immerse myself in the deepest kind of love. An ongoing invitation to expose every flaw, insecurity, and nerve. And a full embrace of the grief required—as it seems I’m continually being asked to let go. It sounds like torture, but if I had it to do over, I would—and I think most of us would.

I’m pretty sure my Mom didn’t regret the ride. There’s not much I didn’t say to her before she died, but today, three months after her departure, this is what I’d want her to know:

Thank you for treating parenthood, and life, as a hilarious adventure, no matter how rough things got. Thank you for making a fool of yourself in the love you had for us. For showing me that even when we fall and fail—even if we feel completely inept—we have what it takes to stay connected to one another. Thank you for NOT pretending, or trying to be perfect. Thank you for teaching me that I can remember to always come back to love, with no strings attached.

I live in gratitude for having been your daughter. Thank you for taking the risk of being a mother, of creating lives you’d die for. Thank you for the unintentional wounding that has led me to God and my own awakening. Thank you for your drive to understand us (no matter how annoying, LOL), and your wonder at the unfolding of us—the discovery of who we are. THANK YOU FOR SHOWING ME THAT KNOWING AND EMBRACING MY WHOLE SELF IS THE PATH. Without a doubt, you were the mother that was meant for me. Missing you….

Love, Natalie xoxo