This past week has been a week of grief for me. I always have tend to stray away from social media around this time of the year. Especially a couple days before all the pictures of mom’s and daughters. It not only triggers the pain and hurt I have of my own relationship I have with my mom, of always of feeling abandon and misplaced in this world. The fact it took me 24 years to finally come to peace with who my mother is and start embracing her with love and acceptance. That this time of year just tends to hurt a bit more now.
When it becomes this time of year I freeze up, my throat chokes up, I feel numb, I fear that one day she will realize what is really going on and hate me. Hate me for knowing her real mom is out there, her real mom just dropped her off and said goodbye. Her fear of not being good enough for me. Hate me for the reasons I wish she didn’t. Hate me for being so “weak”. This time of year I mourn, this time of year I feel pain, I feel empty. I feel like I have lost out on one of life’s most beautiful things… Being a mom to a little girl.
My whole pregnancy with Ava I was in a fog. I was in denial. I just wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to fail. I wasn’t ready emotionally, financially, I wasn’t ready to bring a child into this world and have them suffer because of my poor choices. I wasn’t wanting to relive my childhood over again, family member to family member. House to house, getting confused emotionally. I wasn’t wanting that type of life. Mother’s Day weekend is just one of those weeks where I want to pause time and just skip on to the next week.
In the past I have always celebrated Mother’s Day weekend with breakfast in bed with my aunts and grandma or a lunch date to their favorite restaurant. Cake and coffee. A whole house filled with hot headed woman yet that put their differences aside for a few hours to celebrate one another. Always seeing their gifts they got and the gifts I had gifted them with. It was a day where everyone was happy. It was a day where pictures where taken and just love was shared. Even if it was for those few hours.
The past mothers days I have spent alone, the past mothers days I have spent crying my eyes out. The past Mother’s Day I have felt like a failure, one who lost it all. The past mother’s days I have kicked myself in my ass literally and tried to convince my broken heart and jumbled up mind that I did the right thing. To let all my hurt out. To feel my pain and just let it make me stronger. I have no idea why that this time of year is harder than the other holidays. I guess since Mother’s Day has always been a few weeks form Ava’s birthday it just hits me hard. I go numb inside, I honestly hate the feeling of feeling like I’m “alone”
The past four years I can count on one hand of the people that have said “Happy Mother’s Day”” to me before I had Elijah. Shauna, Julie, Maddie, and Karin. Four people. All people who I would least expect. You would think it would be family. All people who really have listen to me cry, held my hand, or better yet remind me daily that they love me and believe in me. That they “”admire my strength”. People that are my biggest cheerleaders when I hit rock bottom. People who I know that no matter where I go in life, or who I become they will always love me and support me. People that call or text me randomly to tell me they love me. People that tell me randomly that Ava is so lucky to have me as her birth-mom. Little words yet words that make my heart melt. Words that take my breath away. Words that fill my eyes with tears and make me a feel a little whole again. Even if it’s just for a minute or two.
This Mother’s day I told myself that I needed to go in with a new outlook. One that was hard to do yet this year I needed to at least try. To turn a new leaf.
This holiday I felt like giving up. Trying to talk myself out of trying because I felt so weak to try otherwise. This year I’m still in that place of grief. Yet I’m willing to try and break free and rise above this pain finally. It’s hard yet I have accepted that my hurt is okay and that facing it was going to be ugly. My son Elijah doesn’t deserve to see me like this and he too be punished for my grieving.
Today I looked at Elijah and acknowledged that I am his mother. That even though I have all this hurt inside me I still manage to have so much love in me. Because the mother that I have become to Elijah by all this healing and facing the ugly I have become me in my own life. Me being strong. Me being brave. For digging through all the hurt is the type of mom Elijah needs to see. So that he can learn to feel life in all its shapes form.
I don’t want to raise Elijah and have him feel pressured to have to celebrate Mother’s Day. I want Elijah to learn that no matter what day of the year it is. I will celebrate him every day. That I’m his mom and he’s my son. That no matter how many mothers days past I don’t want him to be pressures to buy me a gift or say “”I love you”” to just say it just because. Yet to learn to love, accept, feel. I want him to know that without him I wouldn’t have this holiday. Without him I wouldn’t be his mom. Without him I wouldn’t have seen how much love I still have inside me.
Even though this week has been dark and gloomy for me. Been hurt and pain. Been torture inside. I want to face the day and look deep into my son’s eyes and see the amazing life I have before me. That I get to love and nurture. That I get to make mistakes and fix them with. That I get to hold his hand when he wants it the most and scare the monsters that keep him up at night. That I get to be in his life, and I get to be his mom.