Missing my Mom on Mothers' Day

Today is a special day.  It's Mothers' Day.  I have always liked Mothers' Day, even though I struggle with infertility.  I think maybe the reason why is because I love an extra opportunity to talk about my mom.

Every year on Mothers' Day, I write a letter to my mom.  I started this tradition the year after she passed away, and I look forward to it every May.  I tell her about my year, and I tell her about how everyone is doing.  Last year, I wrote about my ectopic pregnancy, my laparoscopy (which I'd had three days earlier), and our hopes for adoption.  It was kind of a sad letter.  This year, I think the letter will be much happier--thanks to Katie.  (I love you, Katie.)

I miss my mom.  I miss her deeply, and I think of her every day.  I am envious of people who have moms--not in a malevolent way at all, just in a "wow, they are lucky" way.

If my mom were still here, she'd be coming to visit us this week to celebrate Ryan's graduation.  (My dad and Ryan's parents are coming!  We can't wait.)  She and I would talk every day on the phone.  She would know about all of my students and all of the ladies who go to my church, and she would send me articles to use for my lessons at school and at church.  She would have come out to see me a few months ago when I was so sad about failed adoptions and fertility treatments.  We would've gone to lunch and to get pedicures or something.  She would've sobbed for my pain.  And when we got the phone call from Katie, she would've sobbed for our joy and called all of her friends and told them our good news.  I'm sure she already would've bought a closet full of clothes for our forthcoming little man, and I bet she would already be sewing his Halloween costume (she loved to sew costumes).  When the baby is born, she would've been by my side those first few weeks, teaching me how to care for him.  I would've watched her cradle and kiss him and sing him "Edelweiss," the lullaby she always sang to us.

I don't often allow myself to think about what life would be like if she were still here--because when I do think about that, my heart starts to ache.  It's easier not to think about it.

But God is good, and He has not left me to struggle through life without mother-figures.  I have my mother-in-law, who is a wonderful support, mentor, and friend.  I could not ask for a better mother-in-law.  I have my aunts.  I have my friends, both young and old.  Wherever I've lived, amazing women have always taken care of me.  I am so blessed that way.

As I write this post, I am holding a little blanket in my lap--it is one of my most prized possessions.  Just before my mom died, she made a baby quilt for each of her daughters.  She wanted us to have a tangible piece of her when our first babies arrived.  I was with her when she picked out the fabrics, and I watched as she sewed the blankets with help from my aunts.  I absolutely love how mine turned out:

My mom loved to make these "clover leaf" blankets, which, in her words, are perfect for wrapping a baby up "like a burrito."

The inscription reads, "With Love, Grandma Sally"

In just three months, I will wrap our baby boy in my mom's blanket and snuggle him close and sing "Edelweiss" to him.  

And when I do, I know that, somehow, a piece of my mom will be with me.