mother’s day 2022
This morning when I woke up, I was smothered with love by one child, not two. When we sat down for breakfast, we were a family of three, not four. As we played at the park, Jesse pushed one swing and I pushed none. When it was time for bed, I kissed my one daughter good night, and blew another kiss above. This Mother’s Day, I’m celebrated by one child on earth, and one child in heaven.
I recognize the empty holes in my life every single day, and today is no different. Though holidays often hit hard, the hardest days are the normal days. The days that I’m in the supermarket with Joanna and am asked by a complete stranger if she’s my only one or when I’m going to give her a sibling. The days when we are hanging out in the family room and I glance at the corner where the baby swing was to be set up and picture you there. The days we go for walks and I see the other families with their double strollers. Every day when I walk past the nursery and see the emptiness. It’s like a punch in the gut multiple times a day, everyday.
But you know what every day also looks like? Getting my girl from her room in the morning and seeing her beautiful smile. Listening to “Baby Shark” 500,000 times watching her mimic the dance moves and cracking up hysterically no matter how annoying the song is. Allowing Joanna to feed herself yogurt and praising her when she gets every bit of it in her mouth. Playing dress up and reading the same books over and over, listening as she tries to read alongside me. Every day is pure joy. Pure happiness.
I’ve been struggling with this for a while, the idea that you can feel two opposing emotions simultaneously. I remember the day we got home from the hospital. Joanna was staying at my parents house and we were finally reunited after the most horrific days apart. My heart felt so relieved, so happy to have her in my arms. She did something silly (as she normally does) and I found the strength to laugh, like genuinely laugh. And I remember thinking to myself, is this okay? Am I allowed to laugh?
As the days passed on I realized this more and more. How is it that every day I simultaneously feel like my heart is so full it can explode and like it has been ripped out of my chest? I feel like I am smothered in love yet empty inside.
It gets tough to navigate these conflicting emotions in front of other people as well. I constantly worry that if I’m genuinely happy in front of others, will they think I’m okay? Because the truth is I am okay, and I am the furthest thing from okay. At the exact time.
This Mother’s Day was hard. I was met with waves of emotions all day. Every chance that I got a second to reflect, I felt the sadness and anger flood over me. But then I would look into my daughter’s eyes and feel safe, and happy, and at peace.
My heart is with so many others this Mother’s Day. Those who have lost their mothers, those who long to be mothers, and the mothers who have lost a child. Today is hard, but I know that every day is hard.