I waited a long time to be able to celebrate Mothers Day. To own it.
I didn't marry Bob until age 29 and when I became a step mother to Cearra I was very conscious of not trying to "take" her mother's place. And thanks to Disney, step moms don't really get to celebrate Mother's Day, although I've long felt, now more than ever, like C's mom too.
Baby fever first hit me in earnest in January of 1997. I remember coming home from driving a laboring friend to the hospital in the middle of the night and telling Bob, let's have a kid! Instead, two months later I was having surgery for breast cancer at age 31. We waited through treatments to finish, and waited to be given the OK from my doctors.
Next came the discovery I couldn't get pregnant "naturally" and the long, trying months of procedures and shots in my stomach before the day I finally sat on the couch crying and knowing I could not endure that particular form of hope wrapped in barbed wire one more time.
We turned to adoption. And more waiting. We officially started the process in October 2005, and brought Owen home in March of 2007, the day after I turned 40.
If you lost count, or, like me, aren't great at math, that's nine years of waiting from when I first imaged having a baby to becoming my baby's mom.
My point in recounting all that is to say again: I waited a long time to be able to celebrate Mother's Day.
Is it any surprise that I totally bought in to the consumer side of the holiday these past seven years? Yep, I wanted the cards and the flowers and bring on the jewelry. I wanted to go to Mother's Day brunches and dinners out. I wanted to celebrate in capital letters that I was finally, emotionally, officially a mom!
My family did a good job. Bob made me a card with picture of him, the kids, and the cats, and I teared up. One year not too long ago Cearra addressed her card to me "Dear Mom", and I cried. My parents sent me a card saying how proud they were of me as a mom, and I bawled. Last year Owen picked out a ceramic rose and lawn sculpture type rabbit for me, and I laughed so hard I cried. I gloried in all of it.
With Mother's Day just around the corner, I was thinking of what I'd like as a gift; in other words, what shiny object I could pick out and email to Bob that I'd like. And I realized that while I can always find things I want, the more important thing is what I need.
On Mother's Day and every day, I need my family to know I love them. I need to kiss Bob in the morning although I'm still half asleep when he heads off to work, and I need him to know how much I appreciate him supporting me being a stay at home mom. I need to get a text from Cearra when she leaves our place to return to her apartment saying that she's made it safe and sound. That I am so proud of her and that she is my daughter. I need to cuddle with Owen in the morning and hug him when he comes home from school and tell him that I missed him.
I need my mom to know that while I fail at calling or emailing often, she is always in my thoughts (and heart) and I am always thankful for the beautiful way she raised me. I need my mother-in-law to know I think she's amazing too, and that I know how lucky I am to have her.
I need them all to know that they make my life what it is and that I consider myself so very blessed. And yes, I need to know that they love me too and they appreciate me as I appreciate them (so thoughtfully chosen Hallmark cards are still expected).
There are things I wish too. That Owen's mom in Kazakhstan, while most likely feeling her loss especially strongly on Mother's Day, can find some peace in imagining him safe and sound and much loved. That sons and daughters who have watched their mother's pass on can find some joy remembering good times together. And that those women still wanting and waiting to be mothers find the strength to get through this day and keep hoping and believing.
So no, I don't really need any possessions on this Mother's Day; because I've already been given the greatest gift of all. I love you with everything I am Cearra and Owen, now and always.