Ah, Mother’s Day. The Hallmark Holiday that brings moms carnations, macaroni art, and absolute frustration that you can’t all sit still for one minute so we can get one decent picture of us as a family it’s all I’m asking for why is that too much?! … Oh, sorry. Lost the plot there for a second. There’s a chance I’m projecting here. Ahem. Anyway. Mother’s day. I appreciate the thought behind the day. After years and years of wishing I was a mom, or at least wishing that my feelings about mother’s day weren’t so . . . complicated, you’d think I’d take whatever I can get. And you’d mostly be right. Here’s a thing about me though. I am stupidly optimistic sometimes. I really want to believe that this year my kids will actually act like humans (as opposed to poop-slinging wild animals) long enough to, I dunno, not eat the candy that church hands out to mothers as a mother’s day gift. You know, just as an example of things that might or might not happen.
If I sound a little jaded it’s because I sort of am. For Father’s Day, I roll out the red carpet. My kids pick out thoughtful gifts that we wrap. They make homemade cards with sweet words and lots of hearts on them. We go for lunch where my husband wants to go. Mother’s day? Well. At the risk of sounding bitter, I’ll just say it is not like that for me. Here are some things I’ll probably get as an adoptive mom versus things I actually need.
What I Need
An hour-long back massage. My little kids are 7, 7, and 9 and they still require piggyback rides to get from point A to point B. Or, if not them, they need their things carried—like a random ten-pound rock that is somehow absolutely necessary to bring with us. I spend a good amount of time on my feet for them and I could really use some relaxation.
What I’ll End Up Getting
An hour-long discussion on Minecraft, Lego Star Wars, their newest Lego creation, or, if it’s extra special, they’ll break out the big guns and hit me with their big feelings about adoption. That looks like “You’re not my real mom and I hate you.” Which, I guess if I’m an adult and I have complicated feelings about Mother’s Day, that’s understandable. Still hurtful, but understandable.
What I Need
A meal that someone else cooks and cleans up after that—ideally—is something I enjoy eating.
What I’ll Probably End Up Getting
Nothing says “I love you Mom” like Mcdonald’s. Hey at least most of them will eat it without complaint. Most. Not all. But hey, someone else cooked it, clean up is a breeze, and who doesn’t like french fries?
What I Need
Quiet. Just. Quiet. My brain is so overstimulated, it takes me an hour to wind down enough I can actually sleep at night. There is always noise happening around here. I wonder how much one of those sensory deprivation tanks costs for an hour?
What I’ll End Up Getting
Noise. All the noise. Noisy church service, noisy children, noisy restaurant, noisy car. But I do remember a time when I begged God for these small folks, so maybe a reminder of my answer to prayer isn’t entirely a bad thing. I do wish they’d be a little bit quieter though, as a special treat for me sometimes.
What I Need
Everyone to stand still for us to take one cute picture together.
What I’ll End Up Getting
Complaining. From my husband down to my youngest I will receive eye rolls, goofy faces, sighs, whining, and full-body flop meltdowns for a process that could take as little as a minute if everyone cooperated.
What I Need
For people to understand that Mother’s day is complicated. My kids don’t have access to their biological moms. That doesn’t mean they don’t grieve the fact they aren’t a part of their lives. Mother’s day carries grief-tinged joy for me. It carries feelings of loss for my kids. As much as I wish it was as easy as them being happy I’m their mom, I know it isn’t. I wish others would understand that as well.
What I’ll End Up Getting
Some busybody telling my kids they should be glad they have me for a mommy. Someone telling me that I’m so blessed to have these kids. Which. Okay, they’re not wrong. I am blessed. But if I could spare my kids their stories of how they got to me and that ended with them not being mine, that would be okay. I wish my kids had never needed me. I’m glad to be a safe place, but I’m sad that I need to be.
What I Need
A family outing to do something I enjoy.
What I’ll End Up Getting
More whining. No cooperation.
What I Need
To feel appreciated in any way, even if just by my husband.
What I’ll End Up Getting
If history repeats itself (as it’s warranted to do) I’ll have about an hour of sobbing into a pillow in my room hiding out from my people. Look. I’ve never claimed to be great at handling my emotions. Even anticipating going into a day full of emotions and planning for it, I sometimes can’t help the way I end up feeling. It’s no one’s fault but mine. I make my expectations too big and then I’m disappointed. Even if I state outright what I’d like, the chances are fair that I’ll be disappointed. I know this. Maybe this year will be different. I don’t know.
What I Need
I need my kids to know that I am incredibly thankful that they are a part of my life and that I get to be a mom.
What I’ll End Up Getting
I’ll get confused looks when I explain how thankful I am for them. Head tilts like puzzled puppies when I start crying for what appears to be no good reason. Truthfully though, I’ll take it.
The truth of the matter is, that what I really need is to be flexible and understand that Mother’s day is a complicated, emotional day that doesn’t look like a Hallmark movie. I think maybe I’m mature enough to grasp this concept this year. Can I manage to not have an ugly cry over my feelings though? If I had to guess, I’d say chances are good I should stock up on tissues.
Christina Gochnauer is a foster and adoptive mom of 5. She has a bachelor’s degree in Psychology from Letourneau University. She currently resides in Texas with her husband of 16 years, her children ages 3, 3.5, 4.5, 11, and 12, and her three dogs. She is passionate about using her voice to speak out for children from “hard places” in her church and community.