I am copying this over from Hopeful World .org
This rings so true for me; I am blessed to have not only a wonderful relationship with my own mother, but also with my children -- and yet I have many around me for whom this is not the case. Mothering -- and Mothers' Day -- is about feeling our feelings and living not despite but because of the multifaceted people we are. It's about being real, and this beautiful post sure speaks to that! Thank you, Jen Lemen, for your wonderful writing.
Let’s be real. Mother’s Day can completely blow sometimes.
You want to be cheerful. You want to be with the program. But some
years there are all these little points of pain that will not go away.
The baby you never had.
The one you gave up.
The kid you lost to something bigger than you.
The child that slipped away before you ever held her.
The one that was never born.
The one you worry you’re failing.
The one that failed you.
The mother who’s so close and yet so far.
The one you loved so much who couldn’t love you back.
The one you could never love because it hurt too much.
The one you lost too soon.
The one who is slipping away.
The one you can never please.
The one you wish you could live up to.
There are no cards to honor these children or these mothers. There
are no holidays to contain all the parts of you that fall outside the
lines of generally understood sorrow or celebration.
But there is this moment, this incredible moment, where you can feel
it all. Where for once you can’t stuff it down or forget it. Where you
have to be with it, because it is not going away.
And here, my friends, is where something important happens. This is where we connect, where we understand we are frail, where we are human. Where we see in new ways what life means. Where we are issued a compelling and persistent invitation
to mother ourselves. To cut ourselves the breaks we didn’t get. To ask
for the help we always needed. To let tears come and say, This is how it
is. I’ll ask in this one tiny moment, for the courage I need to let everything just be.