Happy Belated Mother's Day

My grandmother holding her second child...my mother
1945,  New Mexico

I meant to write this posting before Mother's Day, but wouldn't you know it...I was busy.  I am feeling very compelled to write this though, so I am wishing a very belated Happy Mother's Day to all my readers who are moms, mamas, mommies, meemaws, and mothers.

My maternal grandmother gave birth to her firstborn child - a son - in the early 1940's.  He was born with spina bifida and passed away after only a few months.  She often spoke of her son, Ronnie, and every time her eyes would well up with tears.  When I was a teen, I used to wonder why she still lamented a baby she had lost so many years ago.  Don't get me wrong; I wasn't callous, just was lost in my own teenage angst and self absorption.  After I married and gave birth to my first son, I didn't wonder anymore.  I knew the love a mother has for her child.  It must be the strongest form of love on earth.  We would die for our children.  "Take me, not my child," we would say.

Throughout the ages, women have lost children whether in the womb or days, months, or years after birth.  It is a pain that lasts with the mother for life.  People, of course, can instantly sympathize with someone who has lost a child after it's been born.  Many women have lost babies before they were born and feel the same pain.  Miscarriage is a topic that is not often talked about and I'm not sure why.  It is so common, however, that I don't know many moms who haven't suffered at least one miscarriage.

I dedicate this Mother's Day to all women who have carried a baby in their wombs, even for mere days.  A mother instantly feels protective of her baby, and she loves it unconditionally.  Each of our babies takes a piece of our hearts from the moment of conception.  Women must not let anyone tell them their babies are only a clump of cells - a term which actually nauseates me.  Our babies are our babies - no matter how old or how long we knew them.  If you have lost a baby from a miscarriage know that they are waiting for you in heaven.  They are your angels, and they can't wait for you to hold them.

My grandmother loved me unconditionally and taught me many things about being a mother.  One month before she passed away, she brought up her firstborn son - her only son - once again.  She had tears in her eyes and she said, "I can't wait to see Ronnie again...and my mama and daddy."  She began crying - my grandmother of seventy-seven years.  She had been waiting all that time to see her baby boy again.  Our babies are our babies.  Motherhood is a gift.