So yesterday was Mother's Day.
First off, I love my mom. She's really quite cool. And besides just our genetic connection, we share a lot of common interests; music, crochet, shopping, eBay, Arbonne, DDR, chick flicks, reading (we like a lot of the same authors), etc. Plus, I have a great deal of admiration for her in the resilience department. She was a single mom for a short period of time with two baby girls, just over a year apart. As is the natural progression, I appreciate her more in my own motherhood as time progresses. So my mom is pretty superior and the right mom for me.
I was also inundated with homemade cards, flowers and other Mother's Day paraphernalia yesterday. We had to drop Matt off early at church because he had to play on the worship team so the boys were to "take me" out to breakfast (with me driving, of course). We tried Cracker Barrell first, but, as you might imagine, the line was down the sidewalk. Then Waffle House, but that looked equally crowded. So we ended up at Dunkin Donuts, which was quite fine with me, actually. As we went through the drive-through, Josh pulled out a handful of cash. My response was, "Oh, look at how cute you are with your little money!" LOL.
Overall, the boys and Matt were wonderful with the day, offering to do things and asking what else I wanted. I so appreciate them and feel very blessed.
But then there's...
The first year after Caleb died, we made it through the big firsts - Thanksgiving and Christmas, his birthday - and in my mind, I was home free. Well, Mother's Day snuck up and "sucker punched" me. It hit me so very hard. So I guess I've been on the defense a bit since then.
Why does it have to be that my least favorite question now is, "How many children do you have?" I never minded it before. I would proudly brag about my four boys and tell about how crazy and loud it was, all with a smile on my face. Now I have to decide, do I tell them? Do I share about Cub and totally put a damper on this conversation? Or do I just offer "three" and try to move on to something else?
It's been almost three years. I still feel the void. I'll always feel the void. My friend, Bethany, just said to me the other day that when she sees our family, she still notices that someone is missing.
It's almost harder now that life has gone on so much longer without him. We've fallen into such a new normal that it's hard to remember the old one. My heart is filled with gratitude for what we have and what God has done, but there will always be that missing piece.
When I was a kid, I couldn't understand why some people didn't enjoy holidays -- why holidays made them sad. I think we all understand that more as we get older. And I always WANT to find the positive and the reasons to rejoice, but it also heps me to be able and "allowed" to work further into this grieving process.
As a family, we move on to focus on Jacob, our baby, turning seven this week. Seven! There's miniature golf in our near future by his choice and we're looking forward to celebrating a fresh year of growth for him.
As always, I wish God's greatest blessings for you! :-)