Speechless

Let's see: How many days has it been? 20? Yes, 20 days since my last post. I have wanted to say something every single day since then. I have started and stopped at least five times.

On Mother's Day, or Mothering Day as they say in the UK, I spent more time than I'd like to admit feeling sorry for myself. For some inexplicable reason, I felt utterly depressed. And, trust me, I know DEPRESSION.

My dear, sweet daughter and husband fixed me breakfast in bed. She sat next to me with her very own tray of food while daddy lay at our feet, and we all enjoyed the Mother's Day special on TV.

They took me shopping, bought me shoes, fed me cake balls. In short, their behavior was above reproach.

So, what the heck was wrong with me?

Here is what was on my mind: I am not a "real" mother. Other moms have houses full of screaming children. Other moms get up at the break of day and never get a moment to themselves. The mom on TV that morning was a military wife, cancer survivor, mother of four.

I just can't compete with that.

So, I wasted a perfectly wonderful Mother's Day feeling sorry for myself.

Now, perhaps you will understand how godawfully selfish and self-centered I felt when I spoke to my friend Sara that evening, and she informed me that her 15-month old daughter had just died.

On Mother's Day, her baby died while I sat in my living room surrounded by two people who love me dearly and tried the best they could to make me feel special.

Lucy at her brother Max's birthday party last summer.

So, for 20 days, I have ruminated on what to say, waking and sleeping, morning and evening. I have racked my brain to try to come up with a proper memorial for an innocent 15-month old baby girl...

whom I held when she was only three days old...

visited in the hospital when she got sick....

threw a baby shower for her mommy before I ever even met her...

just attended her first birthday party in February where she got to stuff her chubby, little cheeks with cake for the first time, and she decided she didn't want vanilla, she wanted chocolate like a true little lady.

This evening, I saw this quote on Pinterest by Anne Lamott, 

You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better.

and, it hit me, I need to behave better myself. I can best honor Lucy and her mom by ending my quest to say the perfect thing about her without revealing how inconsiderate I am and just say what's been on my mind -

That I am a selfish asshole.

That I am an incredibly lucky, selfish asshole.

That I am grateful to be the mother of one child, and that does make me a "real" mom.

That being a mom is more than giving birth to a biological child and raising him or her until he or she reaches the age of 18.

That being a mom isn't about how many kids you have, how much sleep you get, or how little makeup you do or do not have on. 

Being a mom is a spiritual and emotional state-of-being in which you feel the joys of laughing schoolchildren; in which you suffer the hunger of starving children in your and in other countries; in which you can simply glance at another mother's face or hear the pain in her voice and feel her grief cut to the very core of you.

Being a mother can strike you speechless.

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If you are so inclined, you could make a donation to one of these organizations that help children like Lucy:

• Children's Cardiomyopathy Foundation
• Lucy B Farmer Endowment at Dell Children's Medical Center Foundation of Central Texas, click "In Memory Of," in the first name box, type "Lucy B Farmer Endowment"

Motherhood

Ever since Maya came along, I've had more to worry about, more emergencies, more struggles, more exhaustion. When each crisis is averted, struggle is over, good night's sleep is had, I get a false sense of security, like "Well, I'm glad that's over. Now we can return to normal."

The truth is that "normal" no longer exists and that life as a mother will never get any easier.

"Normal" for a mother is being harried, averting crises, fitting in tiny moments of respite while the kids are sleeping and finding that it's never enough to feel fully refreshed.

No quiet. No alone time. No privacy. No space. No peace and quiet. No curling up under the covers with a good book on a rainy day. No showering in private. No thriller movies on a Sunday afternoon.

What is Motherhood? 

Motherhood is reflective because you see yourself in your children's faces - they defy you, and you see all of your flaws staring back at you, and it drives you mad! Then it makes you laugh. Every dirty little secret you've ever known, every naughty thought you've ever had, and every terrible thing you ever did and nevr told a soul will be reflected in those faces.

Likewise, when your children discover something new - a ladybug on a flower petal, a turtle's head peeking up over the still surface of the lake, or the way their feet make different sounds hitting the concrete versus the center of your back. You will be there to witness those moments, and you can reflect back to the moment when it happened in your own childhood.

Motherhood is reflexive, a knee-jerk reaction when you see them do something so awful or so out of the norm, you instantly reprimand them, the words tumbling past your lips, spilling on the floor in front of them amidst the jumble of their toys until they look up at you as if to say, "Mom, I'm three. I know what I'm doing. Who are you to tell me what to do? Now be a good mommy and fetch me my cookies."

Motherhood is exhausting. Because we care so much, we take great pains to ensure that we make the right decisions for our children. We spend hours researching hair care products, bubble bath, bug spray, fabric weaves for their clothing, where their food is coming from and what it contains or how it is contained. We no longer watch the news hour and think, "How will this impact me?" Now we watch the news, cringing all the while, to find out what events are happening in the world that could  affect our children. We watch the news and wonder how to prepare them for the reality of the world we live in. And we are terrified.

Motherhood is a long goodbye. A prolonged adieu.

My goal as a parent is to teach my child to be self-sufficient and self-confident so the day she leaves my home to find her place in the world, I will trust her and she will trust herself to be successful and happy. If she finds fault with the way I have raised her, as I have so often found fault with my own mother, I pray that we can both accept that this is all a part of her growing up.

God willing, we will not say goodbye for a very long time. If god is willing, we will not say goodbye at the same time. I will die first and she will die last, and her own children or legacy will be left behind when she goes.

Motherhood is selfless and, also, selfish. The job that we do as parents will affect the future of humanity, our planet, and our universe. It's a huge responsibility. It's also pretty darn cool.

Because you never know what will happen next. And, when you think you do, it won't. And, once you figure out how to make sure she doesn't melt down every time you have to wash her hair, she'll decide that's no longer much fun and find another way to drive you mad.

Because it's wonderful to be pushed and pulled at the same time. It reminds you that you're alive and that your life has meaning. It reminds you that you are important.