Another Mother's Day came and went.

Well...where do I begin. Mother's Day...that inescapable holiday that follows you around everywhere you go for the month of May, not only in advertising but also in unknowing people asking, "So what are you doing for your mom this Mother's Day?" and then having to tell them she's dead. For the last two weeks, I was an emotional ticking time bomb and everything was a trigger. This is often the case with me for those major days of the year that I dread. Often, the anticipation and dread of a day that's coming up is worse than the actual day...but that's not always the case and definitely wasn't the case this year. Mother's Day hit HARD this year, harder than last. And so it goes with grief sometimes. Some days or years, you just feel sadder than the one before and you don't always really know why.

I had other emotional stuff going on at the same time, and maybe that's partly why it was so terrible. I had a rescue dog situation that I was VERY worried about...and it seems to have worked out very well, but for a couple weeks, I was really scared and upset. I also got rear-ended with one of our dogs in the car. It was relatively minor as far as car accidents go, but it still has me shaken up thinking of what could have happened to her. I was stopping for a yellow light, and the guy behind us didn't realize I was going to stop. I used to sometimes roll the window down for her if we were going slow...never again. I had just rolled up the window so I could hear to call my aunt, and if I hadn't, she would have either gotten hurt or escaped from the car; she was so terrified and just wanted to be out of there and was shaking like a leaf. It wasn't my first car accident, but it was my first with my child in the car, and that makes a difference.

The night before the accident, I had two really sad dreams. Well, one of them was GREAT...until I woke up. In that dream, my mom had just been gone on a long vacation, and she came back, so beautiful and healthy and vibrant. It felt so real. It was crushing when I woke up to find it wasn't real. In the other one, my dad died too, and I kept emailing him because I kept forgetting he'd died, and then I'd remember and lose it. I felt so alone, so terribly lost without both my parents. I am thankful for my dad still being here even if he doesn't always live up to what I need. The dreams, the wreck, and the peak of the rescue dog situation ALL happened on April 30th - so that was one really hard day even without Mother's Day coming up, and all of it rolled together was just awful.

The day before Mother's Day, I went to an annual afternoon tea that is held by one of the support groups that I go to for motherless daughters. Sometimes I almost hate to call them support groups, because that sounds so formal and clinical. Really, they're not anything formal or run by anyone in the medical field. It's just a bunch of girls and women who casually meet and talk about our experiences and vent and laugh and cry (even yell sometimes). I couldn't have survived without them. The tea was wonderful and really helped me feel more equipped to handle Mother's Day the day after. However, I somehow had the mistaken idea that just because I was fine on Saturday, it meant I'd sail through Sunday! Not so. I was okay in the morning, and we went to breakfast and started running errands. Then suddenly I said, "I really need to go home." I climbed in bed and barely got out the rest of the day and night. Now, this is not something I do all that often, so I excuse myself when I need to do it. I watched movies on the Hallmark channel all day. We were supposed to go to a concert that night, but I just couldn't make myself go. I think there are times when we need distractions from the pain as long as they don't postpone allowing ourselves to feel it for too long. But sometimes you just can't make yourself do it.

Then, I thought once I got up this morning, I'd magically feel totally fine again. Ha! It's taken til late this afternoon for me to even start feeling better. Now, I feel pretty good. But when I am really down, MAN, can my perspective get super warped and disgustingly sad. My mind will start running down total other paths, such as, my boyfriend will get tired of me, I can never have a child because I will screw it up (this is something my ex-husband used to tell me, and even though I logically know he was full of shit, this statement STILL sticks with me in a bad way when I'm already down), no one would miss me if I died, I'm not worthy of anything, and on and on. I can really work myself up when I get going. But at some point, after I've worked through the pain again, I'm back to being myself and having a much more balanced, healthy perspective on things. And once you've spoken something out loud, somehow it instantly loses much of its power over you.

My sis-in-law went to the tea with me, as she lost her own mom 10 years ago. Her circumstances were different from mine, but we are both left with scars. We talked a little about how our experiences have made us hard to an extent. I realized how sad it was for me to hear HER talk that way and wondered why it doesn't make me as sad to hear MYSELF think that way. Why do I still sometimes consider other people more special or worthy than myself? I've realized my life is one effort after the other to overcome my fears, one at a time. It seems like I'm ALWAYS working on my many and various fears. But I guess that kind of goes for just about anyone, right? It's just that we all have different ones. If you've been reading my blog, you've gone on many of those journeys of overcoming fear with me and seen that I've been successful a few times, and I feel proud of that. But fear is a tricky, sneaky thing...even when you think you've totally killed one of your demons, now and then it can come back alive, even if only temporarily, when you're feeling weak. I guess the thing that matters is that I am always trying. I never stop trying.

I won't say whom I'm referring to for the sake of her privacy, but someone told me recently that she regretted not having children and that Mother's Day is painful for her because of that. I never knew that about her. I am terrified of becoming a mom, even though I know I have to do it and have always been driven toward it all my life. There ARE times, I'll admit, when I start to wonder if I can do it or if I'll be terrible at it and screw her up. And I get so afraid that I'll steel myself up and tell myself that I don't need anyone and they don't need me, and I'll just spend the rest of my life alone except for my animals. I know how awful that sounds. But I'm sharing it because I'm willing to bet I'm not the only well-balanced person out there who's thought that (even though I don't feel very well-balanced while I'm thinking those things). It doesn't mean I'm correct. But it's a very real fear I'm working on.

I've decided that because next year is 2010 and I'll be 30, we are going to get married and have a baby. Not that 30 is old by any means, but it's a mile marker for me, and it feels like the time is right. I'm so tired of creating red flags out of thin air just because I'm scared. There are no red flags, not real ones, and I know that and everyone around me knows that. If I keep waiting, I'll just keep getting more and more scared, and eventually one day I'll wake up and realize I have missed my opportunities. I don't want that to happen to me. I've said a million times how my mom had many regrets and very little self-esteem, and I don't want that to happen to me either. What a shame it would be. Sometimes you just have to close your eyes and jump. Granted, we've been together for five years and living together for three, so it's not like this is exactly rushing anything. :) It's been the intention all along; I've just been trying to get myself ready.

I talked to my dad for about an hour last night, and he was actually very supportive and comforting. He listened...really listened this time; I could tell. Then I talked to my aunt for about two hours. She always knows just what memories of my mom I need to hear at any given time. She reminded me of how my grandmother, their mom, never said, "I love you," until my mom started saying it to her as an adult (I think after she had me). At first, my grandmother would just say, "Uh-huh," and smile. Eventually, she moved onto, "I know." And it wasn't too long before she progressed to, "I love you too." They always knew she loved them; there was never any doubt. But she wasn't the type person to SAY it, but my mom is, and she completely changed my grandmother in that way because she recognized the value of hearing and saying it enough. I'm glad she passed that down to me. My aunt also reminded me of how even though my mom only knew my boyfriend for about six months, she was CONSTANTLY telling people how good he is to me, how wonderfully he treats me. I wish they'd had more time to get to know each other. But knowing she felt that way about him and saw that in him within a short period of time says a lot to me.

I realized not too long ago that the major thing holding me back from getting remarried and having a baby is that my mom won't physically be there for those things. I have been dreading facing that absence so very much that I have not been able to wrap my mind around going through it. Now I am getting to the point where I can't do that anymore. Yes, it will be hard and it will hurt. But I can't keep putting it off forever. I do want another ceremony, albeit nothing humongous or overly fancy. But for me personally, I don't want to just go to the J.P. I used to assume that I HAD to place a rose in an empty chair at my wedding to represent my mom. A few weeks ago, it suddenly hit me that I don't HAVE to do that! She doesn't give a rat's ass if I leave a chair empty for her. And if not doing it will help keep me from starting my trek down the aisle and totally losing it, so be it. And I've probably said before that while I'm not expecting my child to carry the burden of fixing me, I do think that will be one of the most major healing factors for me, seeing my mom's love for me come full circle when I have a human child of my own. So while it will be excruciating doing these things without her, I can't just not do them. It's kind of like reading the book Motherless Daughters, as a friend of mine so aptly put it - it's one of the hardest things to make yourself do, yet it's one of the biggest things that can help you heal. Why do we put off what we KNOW will help us?

I've started thinking lately of just how many girls and women I know now who've lost their moms. It's almost like I attract them to me, and maybe I do, because I just want to help them through what I've been through. I don't want anyone to have to go through it feeling alone or misunderstood. It has created a great web of support where they help me and I hope I in turn help them too. I recently reconnected with my high school art teacher and found out she lost her mom about 10 years ago, and she and several others are able to help me know what to expect when I become a mom myself and have been able to tell me a little of how they've made it through. That info is so valuable to me. She told me that she and her friend started an unorthodox Mother's Day tradition of going to Six Flags every year, and I really like that. Maybe someday I'll feel I can do something like that of my own. Maybe next year, I'll be pregnant or be a human's mom and I can start to shift some of the focus to me on that day and it'll help some...as another friend of mine says, she has a love-hate relationship with Mother's Day because of having little ones of her own but having lost her mom young.

I've also had a lot of support from friends who still have their moms, and that comfort is very valuable to me too. I have several friends who always remember and who send me notes at times when they know I must be feeling bad. Knowing that I can count on them even when they (thank God) don't fully understand is precious to me.

Sometimes even well-meaning people (and I'm not referring to my friends above) will say things like, "Well, at least she's not suffering anymore." And I want to say, "Yeah, but I sure as hell am!!" And they'll say, "She wouldn't want you to be sad," and I want to say, "Yeah, I didn't WANT her to die either, but she did!" I only think those things on the real bad days. But I can't help it. I don't say them out loud, though, because people aren't trying to be insensitive.

I used to get SOOO bitter and upset and jealous to see other girls my age with their moms. I've transitioned now into (usually) being happy for anyone who still has her mom because I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I'm glad when I hear of girls who truly appreciate their moms while they still have them.

My boyfriend (I might as well have been calling him my fiancee the last few years, but it just sounds weird) got me a gift from our animal children - a stepping stone kit so I can press their pawprints and put their names on it. I thought that was such a thoughtful gift. I was hoping he'd get me something from them, but I didn't ask. That is the kind of guy he is. And I seriously still get afraid sometimes?? REALLY??!!!!

I saw the bunny the day before, though not the day of. I got some fantastic pictures of him.

Oh, we also spent some great quality time with his mom, my mom-in-law, on Sat. night. I love them more and more the more time that goes by. That is another fear I have to get over...allowing myself to get closer to her and stop being afraid "it" will happen again if I do. I can choose to miss out on a lot or get it while I can.

I do feel tremendously grateful for my non-human children. I am a mother at heart, always was. They keep me afloat and bring me such joy. And that won't change just because someday they have a human sister. Okay, or brother. I have plenty of love to go around.

Speaking of them, some are needing to be fed their late-night snack and some are needing to take a potty break. I guess that is about all I have to get out of my system for now. Thanks to all who are reading this, and my prayer is that you made it through Mother's Day okay this year.

Mom...oh, how I miss you...sometimes it is even too painful to talk to you because I can't hear you talking back to me, and it makes it seem more "final" even though I know it's not. I loved every minute of being your little girl and still do. Watch over us and my babies. Whisper in my ear when I need you to, even though I probably already know what you'd say. Send me reminders that you're never far away. Keep visiting me in my dreams, and let me know it's really you. My love for you is so immense that I can't even describe it, but lucky for me, you already understand it. You're the one person who ALWAYS got me, and that is hard for me to be without. I will miss you every single day of my life. But I promise to always make myself come back out of it when I get so down on myself. I promise to live a full life with no regrets. I promise to celebrate your love for me every day in the way that I live and how I treat people. You are so beautiful, inside and out. You had the poise and beauty of Grace Kelly and a heart that was and is unconditionally loving. Both your life and your death have largely made me who I am. I try to do you proud. But sometimes it's hard and the pain threatens to overtake again. I'll keep trying, though, for you. Mom, I love you. Thank you for teaching me and showing me what love is. You're the purest, finest example of it. I hope you're enjoying yourself, learning and being free and happy. You deserve every good thing. Happy Mother's Day to you, Mommy. Although I have to be honest in saying, DAMN, am I glad that's over with.

P.S. I just realized I never wrote about the 4th Valentine's Day...will have to go back and do that later.