With Mother’s Day only a couple of days away, there are advertisements, commercials and reminders that prompt us to give thanks for our amazing mothers. I am always happy for the
people out there that are blessed to have mother’s worthy of thanks; however, what about the rest of us who cringe at the sentiment, who aren’t as fortunate?
There is an unsung community of us who are motherless children.
Whether it is because of dysfunctional and abusive childhoods that carried through until we left home, or because of toxic relationships, there is a subculture of adults who do not have the privilege of enjoying
happy memories of our mother’s love and tender care. Many of us don’t even know what tender care from a maternal figure would feel like. Perhaps it was just never to be? Is it possible that some of us were never meant to know that particular brand of love?
Prior to having my own children, I would dread Mother’s Day. I would avoid going out in public. I would not engage in media of any sort. I simply did not want or need to see the fairytale that would
never be mine. Whether it is all a facade or not, watching people celebrating this matriarch who represented love, protection and unconditional love, was all too heavy for my heart, which carried this specific weight all year long regardless.
You would think at a certain point or age it would get easier or less painful to live without having a mother to turn to, to trade recipes with or to get pedicures with. The truth is, it never gets easier. The older you get the more you realize how important family is and how important having a mother is or would be.
Once having my own children, I was horrified to know how my mother was able to mistreat me and how foreign that concept is to me, especially after experiencing the love that I have for my own children. I could never bestow that kind of reckless abuse upon anyone, never mind my own innocent children.
When I was pregnant with my first child I longed to have a healthy, vibrant, peaceful mother who would share in my pregnancy journey. When my child arrived, I yearned to have a mother to help guide me through the early days. More than anything though, I wanted to have a grandmother to dote upon my child, a grandmother to offer my children who would love and adore them, like I do. Was I to assume that It was not meant to be?
One day after having my second child I had this amazing epiphany. I realized that having my own children had gifted me the opportunity to reparent myself, byway of parenting my children in a way that I knew they deserved.
I didn’t know how to be a great parent, except to parent in a way I wished I had been parented. By loving my children so fully and completely, I have brought the maternal love I’ve always needed and craved, into my life. I have personally benefited from simply and innately loving my own children. It was not by design but rather, as a result of the copious amounts of love that I effortlessly bestow upon my children.
My children have been incredible gifts to me, to my life. I never knew though how they would heal my heart and free it from the weight of wanting.
Now, when people wish me a Happy Mother’s Day, I finally feel the blessing in the statement because I am no longer reminded of my motherless self, rather, I organically think about the maternal love that fills my life and my home. It doesn’t matter that it is a love that I have created. What matters and what I choose to focus on is that it is a true love that envelops my family, and that is where the blessing lives. My family has a matriarch. My family is showered in this love every single day.
This year and every year going forward it will be a Happy Mother’s Day, because I now know a maternal love worth celebrating.
Happy Mother’s Day? Absolutely!
love & light,
t.
people out there that are blessed to have mother’s worthy of thanks; however, what about the rest of us who cringe at the sentiment, who aren’t as fortunate?
There is an unsung community of us who are motherless children.
Whether it is because of dysfunctional and abusive childhoods that carried through until we left home, or because of toxic relationships, there is a subculture of adults who do not have the privilege of enjoying
happy memories of our mother’s love and tender care. Many of us don’t even know what tender care from a maternal figure would feel like. Perhaps it was just never to be? Is it possible that some of us were never meant to know that particular brand of love?
Prior to having my own children, I would dread Mother’s Day. I would avoid going out in public. I would not engage in media of any sort. I simply did not want or need to see the fairytale that would
never be mine. Whether it is all a facade or not, watching people celebrating this matriarch who represented love, protection and unconditional love, was all too heavy for my heart, which carried this specific weight all year long regardless.
You would think at a certain point or age it would get easier or less painful to live without having a mother to turn to, to trade recipes with or to get pedicures with. The truth is, it never gets easier. The older you get the more you realize how important family is and how important having a mother is or would be.
Once having my own children, I was horrified to know how my mother was able to mistreat me and how foreign that concept is to me, especially after experiencing the love that I have for my own children. I could never bestow that kind of reckless abuse upon anyone, never mind my own innocent children.
When I was pregnant with my first child I longed to have a healthy, vibrant, peaceful mother who would share in my pregnancy journey. When my child arrived, I yearned to have a mother to help guide me through the early days. More than anything though, I wanted to have a grandmother to dote upon my child, a grandmother to offer my children who would love and adore them, like I do. Was I to assume that It was not meant to be?
One day after having my second child I had this amazing epiphany. I realized that having my own children had gifted me the opportunity to reparent myself, byway of parenting my children in a way that I knew they deserved.
I didn’t know how to be a great parent, except to parent in a way I wished I had been parented. By loving my children so fully and completely, I have brought the maternal love I’ve always needed and craved, into my life. I have personally benefited from simply and innately loving my own children. It was not by design but rather, as a result of the copious amounts of love that I effortlessly bestow upon my children.
My children have been incredible gifts to me, to my life. I never knew though how they would heal my heart and free it from the weight of wanting.
Now, when people wish me a Happy Mother’s Day, I finally feel the blessing in the statement because I am no longer reminded of my motherless self, rather, I organically think about the maternal love that fills my life and my home. It doesn’t matter that it is a love that I have created. What matters and what I choose to focus on is that it is a true love that envelops my family, and that is where the blessing lives. My family has a matriarch. My family is showered in this love every single day.
This year and every year going forward it will be a Happy Mother’s Day, because I now know a maternal love worth celebrating.
Happy Mother’s Day? Absolutely!
love & light,
t.
