May is a traditional time of renewal: spring is in full swing, the weather is turning warmer, and flowers are blooming. It’s also when we turn our attention to paying tribute to mothers.
This year, as we shelter in place, may be different from our usual Mother’s Day celebrations. Due to the virus that is sweeping the world, we might not be able to be with our own mothers or the children who call us Mom. For me, Mother’s Day is always a mixed bag of emotions and this year will be no different. I am a daughter, a mother, and a grandmother. I’m also a bereaved mother. May 10th will be my eleventh Mother’s Day without my youngest child.
Ian was my later-in-life child. The one I had planned for with my husband. I had two children when we married, and my son and daughter were nine and nineteen years old when Ian was born. Although I was forty years old, it was a relatively easy pregnancy and delivery with no complications. Ian was born four weeks early, but healthy. He was eating well and growing on schedule. However, at eight weeks old, he developed flu-like symptoms: fussy and upset all day, he threw up a few times. By that evening, Ian’s eyes looked unfocused, and while I was rubbing his head, I noticed his soft spot was bulging. We took him to urgent care, and from there, we were taken to the emergency room by ambulance. That was late on a Thursday night. By Saturday morning, he was gone. He had a fast-growing brain tumor, and there was nothing that could be done.
The ensuing years were a series of steps forward and steps back. Each Mother’s Day after Ian’s birth, I feel this odd mixture of feelings: grateful beyond description for the blessings I have in my children and grandchild, yet incomplete. I am filled with intense love for my children here on earth, yet gripped by longing for the child who is no longer with us. It’s a paradox that makes Mother’s Day especially rough at times. I usually spend the day laughing and talking with my family, celebrating being a mom, a grandma, and a daughter. But I have moments when my heart feels like it’s going to stop beating. In those moments, I must remind myself to take a breath.
If you have also suffered the loss of a child or a pregnancy, I want you to know you’re not alone. You can get through this, and it is okay to feel grateful for what you have, while also feeling profound sadness at what you don’t. There is another group of you who may be experiencing Mother’s Day without your mothers. That, too, is a profound and excruciating loss. Your mother is, quite literally, the reason you are here. The relationship with our mother can be complicated. Whether she was a good mom or a bad one, she helped to make you who you are, and losing her can leave you feeling incomplete. Finally, as a part of a global community, we are all experiencing a different kind of loss this year. Many of us won’t be with our families on Mother’s Day if social distancing rules are still in place. This, too, is a painful reality worthy of sorrow.
It is okay to grieve for whatever loss you may be experiencing this year. On a day we set aside to recognize the mothers in our lives, it’s okay to feel ambivalent about it or even sad. Because when you’re thinking of the people you love the most, any loss you feel is even more pronounced. On this Mother’s Day, especially, be gentle with yourself. If you are a mom, celebrate yourself. You are incredible, and you deserve it.
Tricia Vlasak is a mother, grandparent, and wife. She works in law enforcement when she isn’t writing about parenting, hiking with her dogs, or going on Jeep adventures.