Mother’s Day Is Painful
Mother’s Day is painful for me. It is a reminder of grief, longing, insecurity and abandonment. Flowers, cards or gifts usually leave me swallowing a pit in my throat.
I force myself to take a step back. To be grateful to be a mother. I have resources and science and so much information to love and support my kids how they need. They are healthy and happy.
I was stopped recently in the hallway of my kids’ school by the custodian.
“When I interact with your kids, I can just tell they have good parents… Because they are such good kids.”
I work so hard on myself to be a good mom. And because of my health I’m going to fall short.
I do believe I’m a good mother. But my kids have had the opportunity to learn from many women. I’m grateful for the women who have loved and nurtured and mothered them alongside me.
The Women Who Mother With Me
As an autistic woman, living in a country that does not offer support to low support needs adults, I’m grateful for the women who pick up the slack when I’m going through burnout, who take responsibility for my home, my kids’ needs and mine also. I’m grateful for the women who mother me.
I’m grateful for the women who I have had the privilege of mothering, some of whiich don’t have relationships with their own mothers or whose mothers have passed. Who I have had the opportunity to teach how to cook, how to clean, gardening and parenting strategies. One of my workers recently called it motherhood boot camp😅… I’m grateful for the women who have allowed me the privilege of loving them.
I’m grateful for the friends who have stepped in as mothers… Who have taught me, loved me and cried with me.
I’m grateful for the doctors who helped me become a mother.
I’m grateful for the feminists, who have fought for the rights of all of the different types of mothers.
Holding Both Grief and Gratitude
So as I grieve, I also rejoice. I do have good kids.
Because I’m not alone. 🌷🪻🌹