My Mother's Day

Before Shawn and I had Brayden, there were a couple years I really wanted a baby. I mean REALLY wanted a baby. Ask any member of our family and they can vouch for it. It wasn't that I couldn't conceive. It was more like Shawn couldn't conceive--the idea of being parents. He just wasn't ready. So when Mother's Day would roll around, I desperately wished I was being honored too. I wanted to be a mom so bad. And although I celebrated the other moms around me, I could feel that tug at my heart--a tug from a baby who wasn't mine just yet.

Once Brayden was born, I couldn't wait for my First Mother's Day. And when I woke up that Sunday morning, it was as wonderful as I could have imagined. There were no spectacular events or gifts, but it was perfect! It was my day to celebrate our bond.

Yesterday I celebrated my 4th Mother's Day as Mommy--although it didn't quite go like the First Mother's Day. I really felt like a mommy. My alarm went off at 6:15 this morning (the Children's Ministries Team has to be at church by 8:00am on Sundays). Sometime between 6:15 and 7:59, I turned off my alarm. I have a funny way of incorporating my alarm into my dreams, so at some point I just decided to stop hitting the Snooze and turn the whole darn thing off. Next thing I know, it's 7:59 and I have one minute to get out of bed, put in my contacts, get dressed, put on my makeup, brush my teeth, make coffee, eat breakfast and get to church. I did maybe three or four of those things. I arrived at church looking like a real life mommy.... no makeup, hair pulled back and searching for coffee. And once I put it in that perspective... that this is really how being a mommy can feel... I was okay with the whole thing. I ran around the Sunday School rooms like normal, finally departing between 12:30 and 1:00 this afternoon. Ahhh... time to go home, relax and start this Mother's Day!

I get home and Shawn isn't there. He's out with his mistress (aka his bike... that's a different blog post all together! lol). I text him and see when he thinks he'll be home. He calls me and says he's been out for about an hour and he'll be home by 2:30 at which point he needs to go out and find some work clothes for his new job. So we piddle around the house for a little bit until Shawn gets home. He showers and we head to Butler Plaza. Once we enter the automatic doors of Target, the rest is somewhat a blur. It's full of "I can't find my size," "These cost too much," "Are these my only options?" We walk over to Old Navy. I hear more of "These don't fit" and "I don't want to pay that much." In between all of this, Brayden can't seem to keep his flip flops on. He kicks them off. "Mommy, get my fwip fwops!!!" A few minutes pass and off they fly. "Want wear my FWIP FWOPS!!!" If you want to wear them, then stop kicking them off! What a concept! It's Mother's Day. Shouldn't I be the one shopping and trying on clothes? Is that wrong of me to think?

He finally chooses three pairs of pants, we pay for them and leave. We head out to my parent's house, stopping at Publix on the way. I run in. Alone. By myself. No one but me. It was kind of theraputic after our shopping trip! I grab a few things and we head out to the farm. Just the drive out there is calming, so my little therapy session continues. Brayden has passed out in the back and so there's no "fwip fwop" demands being shouted my direction. Peace. And. Quiet. We get to my parent's house and I carry Brayden inside. He wakes up briefly, so I sit in the rocker to help him transition from sleep.

I rock him steadily and rub his back. Before I know it, he's fallen back asleep. He fell into such a deep sleep that his thumb isn't even all the way in his mouth anymore. I just look at him and am quickly reminded of how it felt on that First Mother's Day. How he fit perfectly in my arms, like God made him from my mold. And now, three years later, he still fits so perfectly in my arms. I just sat there and rocked and felt his little body move up and down as he breathed. That made my Mother's Day. There were no extravagant gifts, no breakfast in bed, no foot massages. But the period of time when I held him and wanted to be nowhere else in the entire world.

"We do not remember days, we remember moments." Cesare Pavese