A twitter follower suggested that Motherâ€™s Day might be painful for me.Â My response, indirectly, is yes and no.Â I am sort of past all the intensity of it.Â It just leaves me sad.Â I have been living this for almost thirty years. My daughter will be 29 this week.Â Thirty years is a great deal of time to either sit and wallow in the muck and mire of adoption surrender or to move on.Â Â In many ways I have moved on from the deep sorrow. I am left with a dull sadness.Â As I told my twitter friend, it is what it is.
Sure I thought of my daughter on Motherâ€™s Day. How could I not?Â But the days of expecting anything from her, or anyone for that matter, have long past.Â I think of her, I peek at her online (she posted pictures of the brunch she had with her adoptive mother), and I move on.
I moved on by spending a really wonderful day with my sons.Â My oldest continues to recover from his traumatic brain injury and my youngest continues to have the biggest heart of any child I know.Â My youngest woke me Sundaymorning by making too much noise. He was awake before the entire house (typical) and was blowing some sort of whistle.Â I was annoyed to be woken so early on Momâ€™s Day. I bellowed from the top of our stairs â€œS, be quiet! People are sleeping!â€.Â His response, somewhat sheepish, â€œâ€¦but I made you breakfastâ€.Â My heart wrinkled.
I woke after all and found him downstairs proudly displaying the coffee, OJ, waffles (toaster, Eggo) and whip cream breakfast.Â The waffles were cut into small hearts and were used as eyes on the plate. Below that was a dollop of a whip cream nose and a whip cream smile.Â Â â€œI figured out how to make coffee! I do not know if it is any good thoughâ€ he said with excitement.
The waffles were meh (not a fan of toaster waffles) and the coffee was equally meh.Â The juice had pulp. I ate and drank it all.Â My heart swelled. (I later ate a full breakfast my husband made me).
Early afternoon my sonâ€™s and I went to visit my sister and mother. My oldest son picked out flowers for both of them. My sister was shocked at the gesture. My mother, who had no idea I was coming down to visit, screeched out loud when she saw us in my sisterâ€™s back yard. Following my sisterâ€™s we went to dinner, then to the movies.Â My boys laughed and smiled and teased me at my lack of Marvel character knowledge. We saw Avengers – Age of Ultran. Sorry boys! Mama is a DC comicâ€™s girl (though I was drawn to Elizabeth Olsen character Scarlett Witch).
Through it all I mused over the day, how many motherâ€™s struggle with it where others enjoy the celebration. I fall somewhere in the middle. Consider me a moderate.Â While my heart swelled with love from and for my sons, it was a bit dampened by the lack of my daughter in my life.
As I said to twitter friend, it is what it is.