Mothers Day has always been a nice little holiday, if I ignored the cynical Hallmark-hating little voice. Twice it's meant something more. Mothers Day 2001 was special because I became a mother just the week before. This one is special for many reasons:
As you can see here, ds (through no prompting on my part or that of dh) began preparation for celebrating it two weeks ahead of time. The day before, he was so excited about the gift he and dh would give me - a ring with I.'s birthstone, like the birthstone ring I wear for ds - that he almost gave it away. Around 8 o'clock Saturday night, dh was at work and ds was alone with me and knowledge of the surprise: "Look, Momma. I almost can't not tell you anymore. So don't try to trick me. Don't try to tease me. I can't not say," he said, frowning with the effort of not saying. He did a really good job keeping the surprise.
On Sunday, my sister hosted a beautiful shower for me and many of my friends and family members came despite the fact that it was mothers day for many of them too. The shower was also attended by three of the sweetest baby girls I could ever imagine - two slept and one watched everything, intently and with a half-smile. I. is already a very spoiled baby, and will be the best dressed little girl, from pajamas to sunsuit to winter coat. We also received gifts for the children at the care center and AHOPE, which dh is thrilled to be able to deliver, when he can finally travel. I cried twice, and discovered that weepiness is not proper to pregnancy, but part of expectancy and clearly part of my make-up. I. and I are very loved.
All day, I thought of I.'s first mother, and I thought again and often of how Mothers Day, being a mother, being called a mother (in fact, at my shower I startled myself by saying "I.'s mother," and not meaning myself), is something I will always share now. In some way, I feel both her first mother's presence and absence. Sharing I. in this way leaves me feeling honored, and humbled, and melancholy.