Mother’s Day took on another meaning for me in 2013, the year we began our adoption process. The holiday fell two months after we had officially started. We were recently home study-approved and working hard to file everything we needed for approval to adopt from Japan.
Everything at this time was a whirlwind. Our kitchen table was full of stacks of paperwork. Every night, it seemed I had something else we needed to sign, another document I needed to track down, and I was triple-checking everything to make sure it was right. It was a different kind of expecting, but expecting nonetheless.
What I didn’t expect as I walked into church that sunny morning in 2013, was the wave of emotion that was about to hit. Roses were being handed out as we walked in…suddenly my mind raced. Do I take one? I mean…I wasn’t a mom yet. I decided not to take one, and we made our way to find our seats at the back.
During service, there was a call for all mothers to stand so they could be prayed over and honored. I watched as so many women stood. So many women I knew who were three, four, five kids in already. So many women I knew who stood up with pregnant bellies, a running “joke” from the pulpit was that there must be “something in the water,” followed by a chuckle from the congregation.
I didn’t stand. And it hit me then and there, this was different. There was no pregnant belly to show that I was in the process of becoming a mom. My thoughts swirled. This reaction shocked me because Infertility is not a part of my story. I didn’t expect that even though pregnancy wasn’t something I desired, I was suddenly very aware it was something I was also missing.
The next year for Mother’s Day in 2014, we had just brought our son home a couple of months prior. As the day approached, the feelings this time were different. Looking back, I can tell you now it was a classic case of what we call “adoption guilt.” I knew I was his mom and I was so incredibly grateful that our son was home with us, but I made it a point to tell my husband multiple times, “Do NOT get me anything for Mother’s Day.”
I wouldn’t say it out loud, but I felt like I didn’t deserve to be honored. His birth mom carried him. His birth mom faced more than I could possibly know. His birth mom chose adoption for him. I wouldn’t be a mom if it weren’t for her choice.
Though she didn’t choose me personally to be his mom, she entrusted that her hopes for her son would be carried out. But on this Mother’s Day, I was thinking only of her. In my mind, I didn’t deserve this recognition, she did. So I made it a point to deflect and not make the day about me at all.
For the purpose of attachment, we were the only ones allowed to hold our son for those first couple of months we were home. This was hard for our parents, but they respected it. I was back to work soon, so I knew I needed to at least let our parents hold him at last since they were going to be helping out with him. So that Mother’s Day, we had them over for lunch and surprised them with finally getting to hold their grand baby. I made it all about that, and made sure I wasn’t remotely the center of attention.
This day has been filled with mixed emotions for me, but things took another turn the past couple of years as our son is growing and processing his own story. We tried to keep it low-key with no pressure, but just the term “Mother’s Day” can poke the bear of trauma. In fact, last year, we started calling it “the day that shall not be named” because the week leading up to Mother’s Day had been full of high emotions and high needs. So in 2019, I tried to avoid it for us altogether. I told my husband I wanted to skip Mother’s Day completely. No pressure for our son, no pressure for me, let’s just go somewhere for the weekend as a family. So we did.
But here’s the thing: “The day that shall not be named” is inescapable. It comes, whether we like it or not, every single year. After seven years, though my feelings will always be juxtaposed because that is the very nature of adoption and foster care, I have learned this day is not about me or her. It’s about us.
Mother’s Day may be just a day, but I forever share a son with a woman I’ve never had the privilege of meeting. I never want my son to feel that it is one or the other, therefore I need to give myself permission to feel that same way. It’s not either/or, it’s and. It’s not this or that, it’s both. We have each given him pieces of us in different ways. I can leave room and space for her without diminishing myself as his mom, and I can welcome all the questions and grief from my son about his first mom without taking it personally. Now here in 2020, I have learned to find peace with this day.
As I was reflecting on my own history with Mother’s Day, it got me thinking, how did this even begin in the first place? What is the history of Mother’s Day? While the actual founder of Mother’s Day is hard to determine because there were several contributors over time, here are a few quick facts and significant events from the history behind Mother’s Day:
- Mother’s Day gatherings began during the Civil War. It was also known as “Mother’s Peace Day,” encouraging mothers to gather together to promote peace, as many of them were losing their sons in battle.
- In the late 1870’s, Ann Reeves Jarvis began “Mother’s Day Work Clubs” to empower local mothers. Though she gave birth thirteen times, only four of her children made it to adulthood. With an epidemic spreading due to poor sanitation, she partnered with a doctor to help teach mothers how to better care for their children.
- Anna Jarvis, daughter of Ann Jarvis, wanted to honor her mother’s work and legacy after her death, and successfully advocated for a nationally-recognized Mother’s Day to honor the work of mothers everywhere.
- On Mother’s Day 1968, the month after her husband’s assassination, Coretta Scott King led thousands of women to kick off peaceful demonstrations for the Poor People’s Campaign, advocating for economic equality for people of color.
Do you know what this history tells me? This day was actually born out of heartache, fueled by community, and intended to create change. It was really a day of advocacy, of peacemaking. It was women coming together to say no more, we will not accept inequality in any form, we will use our voices and pave the way to make it better for the next generation.
Knowing our personal and collective histories with Mother’s Day, my hope is that we start to get back to the original intent. That despite the personal loss or pain we have experienced – or are experiencing – surrounding motherhood, that we first and foremost make peace, both with ourselves, one another, and where we are on this journey. That we then allow the pain and the peace to merge and fuel us to come together and empower one another along the many ways motherhood takes shape. And where we see injustice, that we would band together and advocate for it. I believe that is what this community is doing, and why it was built in the first place. Wherever you are on this journey, may you find peace with Mother’s Day.
Christa is a wife, mom via adoption, coffee consumer, and Mary Poppins wannabe. A born and raised Texan, she is doing all the things she said she never would, like homeschooling, going gluten and dairy-free, using essential oils like they are going out of style, and writing her first book (and now her second!). She and her husband are both former social workers-turned-writers and entrepreneurs. She loves sharing about the joy and pain of adoption and helping to prepare others along the way. She keeps it raw and real, and you can find her rocking the mom-bun, making more coffee, and processing through words on her blog at spoonfulofjordan.com and other real-life shenanigans over on Instagram @spoonfulofjordanblog.
