So I did some googling tonight as to the history of Mother’s Day because I was curious how it all started.
A woman by the name of Anna Jarvis held a memorial ceremony in May of 1908 three years after her mother’s death. She wanted to celebrate her mother’s life and all that she had done for her children. She was honoring her late mother.
Anna’s mother Ann Reeves Jarvis had had thirteen children over the course of her life. Seven of her children had died before Anna was born. Seven. She was a bereaved mother.
Because of a lot of hard work on Anna’s part, the US recognized Mother’s Day as an official holiday in 1914.
For those of you missing your moms today, this holiday was started for you. For those of you missing your children today, this holiday was also started for you. It was grief that brought forth this effort to create a day just for Mom’s.
So when you think of Mother’s Day, don’t just associate it about being for those that are here. It began for those that are not. Happy Mother’s Day!
What I’ve Learned in the 20 Years Since my Mother’s Day
One of my posts I wrote about Mother’s Day that was published by Huffington Post this AM.
The first time I heard this song I loved it. Then I listened to the lyrics. Perfect description of what it felt like when I met that first bereaved mom at the hospital in our nurse, or when we did yoga for the first time with the other bereaved mom, or met with our support group of bereaved moms, or connected with other bereaved moms online. I was lost, but all of you helped me to believe again. This community of broken hearts is my family.
He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe, believe in him and believe in me. Together we will fly away in a cloud of green, to your beautiful destiny. As we soared above the town that never loved me, I realized I finally had a family.
Parker told me the other day that he’s struggling. He’s scared that something will happen to Fletcher.
Given what we’ve been through, I feel like this is pretty normal. Fletch looks so much like Benny and he’s only 7 months shy of Benny’s age when he passed. He’s getting around now, he’s more interactive and playful. We’re heading into the toddler stage.
I told Parker that I think this is going to get worse before it gets better. Maybe once he’s 18 months we can sigh with relief. Maybe not. I don’t know what to expect.
We panicked in the morning when he slept through the night. Both of us having awful thoughts that something terrible had happened. I didn’t say anything until Parker brought it up. I’ve been terriffied since Fletch was born that something would happen. I remember feeling this way when Darcy was born too. Difference is now I know it’s not necessarily irrational.
I can’t ever imagine going through that again and surviving it. I’m not quite sure how we did the first time. It’s one thing to be scared of something happening and a whole other to know what it actually feels like. I’m not immune. There are no promises.
As much as Fletch makes me crazy, I am so deeply in love. That’s scary, to allow myself to become that attached again. To hope that I get to keep him. To bring hope and joy back into our lives. But that’s what keeps us going, is that hope.