Mother’s Day 2020

Well here we are. My second Mother’s Day as an actual mom of a human; Matt insisted pregnancy didn’t count and despised when I referred to Charlie as my first born (ear muffs, Charlie). It’s strange to think of myself as a mom, to be honest. Last year is still such a blur. I tried to keep Mother’s Day super low key; using “happy” with anything almost felt wrong, even if we’d fake it. Throughout these past few months, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect, as we all have. So much has changed in my life over the past two years; I have changed. It’s overwhelming to think about and even more overwhelming to speak about, so I’ve chosen to write and see what comes out.  

Two years ago, right around this time, I found out I was pregnant with Bryson.

The exact date we found out: May 1, 2018. At that moment, I knew everything would be different; I knew that so many aspects of our seemingly uncomplicated lifestyle would change. It was a moment I’d been building up for months, one could say years, and it was just as exciting as I had imagined. Of course, with excitement also comes major anxiety ; I mean, I knew nothing about raising a child. Matt knew even less than that. So what was the game plan? We’d figure it out together; we’d muddle through just as our parents did, our friends did, and so many other couples manage to do every day..together.

Fast forward to Mother’s Day 2020, as a solo mom.

I’m left without a playbook; without my partner in this.  I simultaneously feel ridiculous complaining because I know many, many other parents are left to figure things out on their own, whether by choice or by force. My situation is not unique, but it’s unique to me. I’m lucky to have a wonderful family and fantastic group of friends who are always willing to lend a hand (when safe to do so). My cousin, god bless her, even quit her job to move down to Baltimore and nanny Bryson. I love having her here. But, it’s not the same. 

I don’t get to complain about not having date night or boast about having one after the kids go to bed. I don’t have the opportunity to complain about Matt not changing the diapers or helping me get Bryson down. I don’t get to turn to someone, specifically on the hardest of days, to receive that comforting hug and a kiss, all of which would remind me that everything would be ok. I know this is the hand I’ve been dealt, and I will do my very best to be a great mom to a wonderful little (or not so little) human; but sometimes I just miss being ordinary; I miss not being that person; the one people check in on every now and again to make sure I’m a functioning human and not digging too far deep into the rabbit hole. I’m sad that I never got to have a joyful Mothers Day as an actual mom. The only thing that rivals missing Matt as a person,  is missing the life we had and the future we planned. I’m grieving the loss of my husband, grieving the loss of our future together, and grieving “ordinary.” But, I digress. 

This Mother’s Day, as with every Mother’s Day, I look to all of the women around me who epitomize what it means to be a mom.

It doesn’t mean always knowing the right thing, or saying the right thing, for that matter. There are many ways to raise a child, with so many variables. Sometimes we’re rock stars; sometimes we’re train wrecks. The one constant across all my mom friends and of my mom role models is this: You love your child unconditionally, through the best times and the worst times, and beyond. That love can hurt; it can also heal. “Being there” can harbor different meanings at different moments, and it’s not always obvious and straightforward. I’m personally lucky to come from a long line of strong , fierce women who have paved this rocky path for me.

I’d like to wish a very special “Happy Mother’s Day” to all of my closest moms who really showed up for us this past year. To my mother-in-law, and the best Nonni, who despite dealing with every parents’ worst nightmare, kept herself together, stayed strong, and pushed forward with every ounce of her being all for the sake of her family. To my sister-in-law who, on top of her ridiculously cool job as a scientist, mommed two wonderful children, and still carved out time to cook us dinner every week, accompany us to some of Matt’s toughest consults, and research EVERY clinical trial potentially available around the world. She didn’t complain; she didn’t give up and she always gave me an extra assurance of hope. She dealt with my anxious moments, and cried with me during the really, really hard moments. I can never repay her for everything she has done, not only for me, but for our entire family. To my framily moms, who on top of being pregnant or new moms, made time to be there for me, for Matt, and for Bryson. Whether it was cooking us a meal, visiting us at home, coming to the hospital, helping me pack up my life, and/or dedicating so much time and energy to A Matter of Hope …it all mattered.

And, to my mom.

To the woman who dropped her entire life to help take care of Bryson, and keep me relatively stable, during the stormiest days. She witnessed the worst of the worst, day in and day out.  How tragically peculiar it must have been to watch her child experience something she had yet to endure, while simultaneously feeling her own pain. When someone asks where I get my strength, I can easily turn and point to my mother. Despite the adversity she’s faced throughout her life, she has never once complained. She never stops. She never throws in the towel; she never gives up. If anything, she gives more. She doesn’t ask for pity; and doesn’t play a martyr. She probably hates that I’m even bringing attention to her now; her favorite Tim McGraw song is “Humble and Kind,” fittingly. She claims she’s “just being a mom,” without ever realizing just how special she truly is. So happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Thanks for not only being my mom, the best mom, but for teaching and guiding me along the way.

Special shout out

To all those out there missing their moms who have passed, or, gut-wrenchingly unfair, missing children who have passed. I can’t say I know how you feel, because I don’t. All I can say is, I know what it feels like to lose a large chunk of your universe; I know holidays and special days can trigger anger, sadness, envy, and other awful feelings. One thing I found helpful is to straight up recognize that the love isn’t gone; the memories you share, the spirit that surrounds you only goes away if you let it. You just have to believe, and do your best to keep the stories and the -isms part of the conversation. I’m not sure if that’s helpful or hard to hear, but it’s something that personally gives me the power to push through.

Can you believe we’re moms?

To all my new mom friends, and soon-to-be mom friends, it’s a freaking trip, isn’t it? It’s not always easy; in fact, most of the time is ridiculously hard. But it is 100% always worth it. The little laughs, the simplest milestones, and the “oopas” (Bryson hugs) make all of the tantrums, restless nights, and disastrous houses seem so miniscule. I am by no means a mom-expert, and I have yet to experience any sort of momming beyond the age of (almost) 16 months, so take my thoughts for what they’re worth to you. I do applaud all the moms out there for killing it every day, but especially during quarantine. I’m lucky to have some of the best moms in my life, as role models, mentors, amateur therapists, and partners who are always down for the occasional “bad mom” moments.

Love you all and Happy Mothers Day. 

Xtina