a DO OVER. As many of you know, I spent Mother’s Day at my son’s bedside in the PICU at our local hospital. He had a swollen fontanelle and high grade fever. After a CAT Scan, MRI & MRV, Spinal Tap, Urine Test, Blood Culture and however many more tests they conducted, the doctor’s were left stumped. I sadly thought to myself that this was what was always going to be. When a nurse repeated his medical history, matter of factually stating — “micro-deletion on chromosome 16 of unknown significance,” I repeated only to myself, yes, of unknown significance.
I know many regard Mother’s Day as a day of celebrating and honoring the role a Mother plays in their children’s lives. I on the other hand choose to regard the day as a reflection. To remember the joy amongst the chaos of the everyday, sleep deprived and all, to remember the love despite the fights to eat vegetables, clean their rooms and washing crayon drawings off the wall and my kitchen cabinets, to remember the reason why being a mother is simply the best job in the whole wide world. It’s so easy to forget the joy of being a parent, especially when you count the gray hairs you’ve accumulated as one, or the heartache you experience as your child falls and hurts his knee for the first time, even worse, the first time they are hospitalized.
Mother’s Day to me is a day to take a step back and enjoy my kids instead of trying to be the perfect parent and making them the perfect kid. It’s the day I don’t stress if she didn’t say excuse me after sneezing all over me. It’s the day I let her run around the house in her pajama top with a purple tutu and no underwear on. It’s the day where she can watch more than an hour of TV without my protest. It’s the day I’m not googling and reading some horrifying article on chemicals entering their bodies and flipping our lives upside down to change it as if I was God. It’s the day I’m not staring at my son thinking every little thing is that “unknown significance.” It’s the day I sit and watch and enjoy watching the world through their eyes. The day I simply let them be my kids, perfectly imperfect.
The bond between a mother and child is well known and well documented but you can never truly understand it until you become a mother yourself. I know it’s a lot more than just blood, but that simple fact brings so much joy to me as a mother. I love knowing that they once were a part of me, connected to me… every time I kiss their bellies and graze their adorable belly buttons — I think that was me to you, like a secret between two, only we can say that. I love seeing and identifying things like who has my stubbornness, who has my laughter, who has my nose, my ears and even the imperfections like my horrible teeth (thank God for braces!). I love the wonder my husband has on how I just know when something is wrong with our little ones and he doesn’t (cause I have counted every hair on their little beautiful heads).
So even though I spent Mother’s Day away from my daughter, and by my son’s beside in the PICU, the love that I felt for my children that day was bursting out of my heart. As long as I had them, every day is Mother’s Day to me.