This year my sense of feeling bludgeoned by motherhood has changed into more of a subtle, sad acceptance that my mothering experience is unusual and always will be. It’s not typical. It’s not what I expected. But it’s not awful, either. It just is, and I’m okay with it. There is beauty in variation and I love my people.
I’m recognizing now that many (or most) women have complicated emotions about this day. It’s a day of weird, layered expectations, personal and cultural. It maybe isn’t intended to be that way, but it’s become this.
I don’t see my young teen son much. This used to feel like an amputation. Now I feel kind of a hollow…peace, if that even makes sense.
There is an empty space where I hold onto Jack because he isn’t here.
I’m oddly filled up with a pool of calm, still gratitude for Jack’s caregivers, for the system which exists to give people with disabilities the right supports they need for a happy life. I’m so glad Jack is child of God, who knows what Jacky needs and helps us find the best solutions.
This is my Mother’s Day gift.
Here is my Mother’s Day post from last year. It says everything I’m feeling.