Mother's Day.

I didn't endure the pain of childbirth. Not in the traditional sense. In spite of my complaints when I get a paper cut, I think I would have rocked it during delivery. Labor might be another story. I can only imagine. I still get a little sad that I will never experience pregnancy or childbirth. I allow myself this sadness because it belongs to me. Just as the blessing of my children, brought into this world by other women, belongs to me. It still feels like a precious, delicate, unbelievable gift...my babies. After such a struggle to become parents...the fact that these children are here in my home...it's hard to put into words. And yes, I'm such an imperfect Mom. I yell WAY too much. I am not as patient as I should be. (Why can't we have do-overs as long as we recognize the need within 60 seconds?) Still...an amazing blessing, gift...what is the word?
Someone recently asked me if we do something for our birth-Mom's on Mother's Day. I love that my children's birth-Mom's are such a part of our lives. I feel such love for these women. It's a strange thing though, Mother's Day is not a day we celebrate with them. I sent a card a couple of times but it feels a little like I'm bringing up the fact the I am the Mother...you are not. Or kind of a weirdly saccharin way of pitying them. It just doesn't fit. So I'll send them cards, pictures, presents any other day of the year. But Mother's Day is different. I think about them on Mother's Day. I say a tiny prayer just for them that day. I look at my children with humbled awe that day and renew my promise to live up to the hope their birth-Mom's had for them when they placed their baby into my arms. I was picked by this woman to raise her child. So very humbling. Me. Imperfect me was chosen to care for, love, nurture, listen to, teach, play with,  clean, wipe, hug, whisper to, and tickle these babies. I get to do this simply because of circumstance. Mine and the women that intersected my life. Mother's Day reminds me of this.
I feel sorry for myself sometimes. I didn't experience the pain of childbirth...but pain is there. Pain that stays buried mostly. Every now and then a remnant of that hurt will rise to the surface and I'll cry for a bit. There is real sadness, still. Sadness that my body didn't work. Sadness that the ship has sailed on that possibility. Pain in seeing another woman's eyes as she placed her sleeping infant into my arms for good. Her eyes confused and resolved at the same time. Pleading with my gaze to know that she's doing the right thing. Real pain. So much of it is hard to put into words.
But more...there is joy. Utter joy. I've been taught so much through my infertility and adoptions. It's a priceless journey I've taken. It sounds trite to say "I wouldn't change a thing." I appreciate what my pain and sadness has given me, certainly. But I wish I could slough off a little of the ache...maybe take it down a notch or two. These sweet, wonderful children have done their part in easing my hurt. I feel so ungrateful when that pain rears it's head, like I shouldn't be allowed to feel that when I've been "made whole" through the adoptions of my beautiful children. It is what it is and I accept it as a whole. Pain, joy.
Thank you to Celeste and Ginny for making me a Mother. My greatest joy is being a Mother. I think of you each Mother's Day and my heart swells. There are no words to express my gratitude.