Not every woman wants to be a mother.
Not every woman who wants to be a mother is able to be a mother.
Not every mother feels comfortable celebrating her pregnancy because her pregnancy is filled with worry.
Not every mother is able to carry her child for 9 months.
Not every mother is able to hold their child when they are born.
Not every mother is able to capture a sweet newborn photo.
Not every mother is able to take their child home.
Not every mother is able to protect her child despite her best efforts.
Not every mother is able to hear their child’s sweet voice or celebrate their child’s first steps.
Not every mother will watch their child joyfully play with other children.
Not every mother will witness their child succeed at school.
Not every mother will get to cry watching their child move out on their own, because they never will.
Not every mother will watch their child grow old.
Not every mother is able to leave this earth knowing that her child will be okay.
Mother’s day is meant to be a day of celebration, but not every mother is able to celebrate. For some it may be a day of mourning. Another reminder.
I think about the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto often. I spent a lot of time there as a child and now again as a mother. That hospital will be full this Mother’s Day as it is every holiday. I think about those moms. They will wake up on a small cot to the sound of hospital alarms. They won’t get to sleep in, or have their breakfast served in bed. Those mothers are arguably the moms who have sacrificed the most for their child. But they won’t be celebrated Sunday.
My mom was one of those mothers. I can’t say for certain if she spent Mother’s Day or her birthday in the hospital with me, but I remember my parents having a romantic anniversary dinner in the hospital cafeteria. I hope my mom knows that I can now see her sacrifice. I probably didn’t appreciate it enough before.
Of course this Mother’s Day I want to celebrate my mom. She has been through a lot in her life. Her experiences have taught her many things and I am fortunate that she is now passing those lessons on to me. She continues to help me grow in order to better myself and my family.
Not every mother is my mother.
Love you mom! xo
One thought on “Entry Fifty Two- Not Every Mother”
You made me cry, Lana. On my birthday when you were in the hospital, dad and I had a fight because I was not wanting you to have a port installed which would have involved another surgery in and out. Your dad didn’t want me bucking the system, but you had already done well through two rounds of chemo by then and were possibly halfway through your treatment. The port was easier for nursing staff and I understood that, but I didn’t want you to have the surgeries, nor a lifelong scar for someone else’s convenience. When you talk about trauma, I get it. I found looking at all those little bald kids at Sick Kids with no eyelashes or eyebrows and a telltale scar on their necks and their terrified parents was painful. It still haunts me from time to time.
You are tough and determined, Lana. You are the best mom your son could ever have and never doubt that he is so lucky to be the child of Oscar and Lana Roman. Proof….look at Olivia.
Your ma xo
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