I don’t usually get all personal on this blog, but I thought I would change directions today.
Mother’s Day is a weird day for me.
It always has been although I don’t usually talk about it.
You see, I have a confusing relationship with my mother. I know, you’re saying “Suzan, who doesn’t?” and that’s probably true.
I don’t remember celebrating Mother’s Day when I was a child. At all. Of course, I don’t remember a lot of things from when I was a child. I didn’t have an easy time and my brain’s response has been to erase or hide most my memories from me for my own sake.
My birth mother gave up rights to me when I was a toddler. I only had a couple of memories of her but I clung to them well into adulthood. I did meet her again when I was around 18. We stayed in close contact for a few years and I tried so hard to be a part of her life. Then in 1999, she stopped all contact and told me that she wasn’t my “real family anyway“. That statement hurts to this day. I should forever refer to her from now on(although I rarely talk about her) as my egg donor. She isn’t my mother.
I was raised by my stepmother, who became my “real” mom not when she adopted me, but when I realized that she was the one parent that would never leave.
I had this notion that a mother was something you were born with and nothing could change that.
That is not true.
A mother is that person who has your back no matter what. No matter how stupid my mistakes were, no matter how much I pushed her away, my mom never turned her back on me.
And believe me, I tried to push her away.
I still struggle with the notion that I don’t belong to her. That she doesn’t love me as much as my sister. I think she does, but we have a very different relationship. I am ten years older than my little sister and my mom remarried when my sister was still fairly young, so we grew up in very different households. I wrestle with feeling like an outsider at family functions. I feel that I am a constant reminder of a less happy time in everyone’s life.
I’m that scar that everyone sees but no one mentions.
In the car the other day, The Boss and I were having a silly argument about who loved who more. We do this often. “I love you MORE” is often yelled from room to room. I tried to explain to her that she couldn’t understand how much I loved her until she had a child of her own. I remember her growing inside my belly and holding her close so that I could just smell her scent again and again.
Did my egg donor feel that way about me?
I constantly wonder what made me so unlovable. My egg donor went on to have two other daughters that she would do anything for. I have no contact with them either.
Mother’s Day is bittersweet for me. I can’t help but think of my egg donor and wonder what I did wrong.
I think of my Mother and wish that we had been closer when I was younger. I feel like I was robbed of having a mother when I was a child because of the environment that we found ourselves in. I try to reach out, but it still feels strained and forced at times. Once again, I feel like I remind her of a time that she would be happy to forget. Don’t get me wrong, she has never made me feel that way, it’s all coming from inside my own head. It’s just hard to ignore those thoughts most days.
And then I look at my children. Mr. Mister, who still gives me a hug before he heads out to work. We grew up together for so many years since I was so young when I had him. The Boss, who is growing into a young woman each day right before my eyes. They know how much I love them because I never stop telling them. I’m probably overcompensating and that’s okay. I want them to know how grateful I am that they are a part of my life.
So, I’m not sure that I have a point today. It’s just a glimpse into what makes me the way that I am. A small peek at my internal demons that make me push myself to do things that at first I think are impossible.
If you are lucky enough to still have your mother around, make sure you celebrate her today.
Because she probably has her own demons that she deals with every day.