I love Mother’s Day.
True…the treatment I receive on Mother’s Day is much like the treatment I receive from my kids and husband everyday. Chores done without asking, little handmade notes and cards, ample time to soak in the tub and read my favorite book. The difference is that on Mother’s Day, I get to enjoy these things guilt-free!
This Mother’s Day was different though – I had to share it. I woke up to my six year old wishing her big sister a Happy Mommy’s Day; something that until this year, had been reserved for me. I soon found myself standing in the middle of the Walnut Square Mall with the intention of buying my baby girl her first Mommy’s Day gift; my heart still not having accepted what was happening. I walked around Hallmark several times looking for an appropriate card. If you think that the sentimental, heartfelt, card creating retail giant has the appropriate card for every situation, you are right…except for the card I needed that day. I was looking for a “Happy Mother’s Day to my oldest (but still too young) daughter and congratulations on expecting your first baby at the most inappropriate time thus making me a grandmother way before my time” card. It was not to be found.
I was emotionally exhausted and ready to throw in the towel and make her a crayon-created card like the rest of my children were at home doing. That’s when I saw it. A framed drawing of a mother holding in her hand two tiny feet with the words and so love begins. I was taken back to the moment that it sunk in for me; that I would soon become a mommy. I had spent the first 18 years worried about me, my life, my future. That moment changed everything. I knew that going forward, life was no longer about me. It was no longer about what I had planned or what I wanted. It was about my life with my baby. That moment was pivotal for me. I knew I was forever changed and while I was scared to death, I was absolutely, 100%, head-over-heels in love.
I fell in love with Alana all over again right there in Hallmark. For the first time, I thought of her as a mother. Not the child who had wronged me, but as the little girl who had grown up and made some crappy choices and now no longer worried about herself, her life, her future. But she was sitting at home feeling shame and confusion when all she should be feeling was love; an absolute, 100%, head-over-heels kind of love. I was determined from that day forward we would celebrate what was to come.
I cried as I was checking out. The young girl behind the counter looked at me with so much pity as I tried to explain that my tears came from joy. My baby was going to have a baby. I was going to be a grandma.