So, I have five children. People I meet ask me how many children I have. I pause, Choke a little. Do they mean right now? Children who are here now? Thinking of questions that follow. Where do they live? What are they doing now?
On Mother’s Day week, I ask myself that question nearly everyday. Everyday, I feel the loss of the one just a little bit. It never goes away and surfaces on special holidays and birthdays – especially hers. And, when the kids are all together on occasions now that they are grown, I briefly look for her amongst them in my memories. So, I say it…
“I had five children. Four birth children and one adopted child. My Erin died at 18 after a long illness.” What is a true celebration of my life’s most significant contribution – being a mom to 5 (yes, five) children, the very core of my joy in life, is tainted by the “telling” of my story of losing a child. Yet, let me tell you how I lived through raising five children; how we lived each day when they were growing up.
My ultimate joy of years of seeing them connect, irritate, annoy, rawly love in the most basic and heartfelt way – truly love each other. Day and night on ordinary days with mundane routines. Predicting responses to typical and very functional daily interactions. Yet, reacting to each other as if everything in our house was normal, just like any family. Didn’t matter that we bantered in repetitive and sometimes nonsensical phrases. Where frustration during evenings where boys were studying for tests…sweaty and taking showers after lacrosse games…while Erin was yelling the same phrase, “Erin, stop yelling!” again and again…or, singing her favorite Hannah Montana songs into her microphone connected to her karaoke machine at the top of her lungs. Even stressful situations could be turned into fun and laughter as boys in gym shorts with soaking wet hair skipped downstairs at night to watch shows, do homework, make popcorn (yes, and fight). Relax into the normalcy of a Feathers’s household evening. Feeling secure…soothing…a solace that centered us each and every day.
My kids are who they are because of how they impacted each other under the same roof-to a great extent. The parents (we) have something to do with that, but the impact of what happens under one roof on a daily basis cannot be replaced or embellished by any well-meaning attempts to replace the blueprint created by years and evenings of popcorn, watching shows, playing games, mundane talks, doing chores, asking questions, (picking on each other), smelling fresh sheets (or slightly smelly sheets), hearing the heat pump kick in, the house settling, feeling the comfort of sleeping under the same roof-when the wind blew and rain pellets pounded on the roof, toilets flushed, and teeth brushed-all familiar sounds as breathing slowed and sleep arose across our household each and every night.
Even the two foster sons-teenagers-and their older sister. The years we spent getting up at 5:30AM to go to cross country practice or hearing their laughter together late at night-feeling relaxed and safe sitting at the kitchen table-cooking food and laughing -creating their own normalcy.
It was knowing-and feeling-the family secure and tucked in for the night. Under the same roof. Lights dimmed. Soft sounds of TVs and music from darkened rooms. It made me breathe a sigh of relief and comfort knowing we were safe and secure and ready to rest after another day.
Each day-a celebration in some small way. Rising in the morning. Waking up the kids. Though hectic, sometimes feeling frazzled, yet subtly smiling inside knowing the investment of children-being a mom-living each day in the present moment-with my kids-was indeed-living my best life.
Those mundane and repetitious memories coupled with seeing my kids as adults…parents…professionals…means everything…brings more satisfaction than anything else life can offer.
When they reach out, my heart skips a beat. Whatever they need or whatever affirmation they are seeking. I love just answering the call. When they include me in the group text, I can’t wait to hear what happens next. Even in their new seasons of life (and mine-ours), I still feel that everyday connection and familiarity through their voices and descriptions of their everydayness. And each responds to mine in much the same way encompassing my everyday sidekick Diana who is ever present in my daily routines of walking, swimming, socializing, and working. She is now the one who carefully charts our daily schedule-enmeshing mine with hers. Even allowing me at this point to interrupt hers to travel to see siblings (grandsons) more often.
It’s within the new normalcy of having the one (Diana) as my constant in my daily life that helps me cope with my losses. It is not that she wasn’t there before, because she was; nor that she’s here now in a new way, because she isn’t. It’s just I’ve needed her to stick a bit closer and enjoyed her quite a bit more within a new space she’s created for herself as she’s emerging into adulthood. An everyday space that is truly delightful and full of surprisingly witty and wise conversation. I often think about what a gift she is to our family and what we would have missed-all of us-had we not found her.
So, when I hear someone in the kitchen or on the phone say, “Hey, Mom”…That’s a Mother’s Day. That subtle excitement to hear their voices. That feeling of pride in being close to them now. Even the realization that the one I lost in life is still engrained in my heart and memories to the point I can still hear her voice when I think of her.
I’d do anything for any of them. Yet, for the exception of Diana, none of them need me in the everyday way they once did. I actually love being on the side of enjoying the present moments of friendship that have evolved in adulthood and being an extension of their lives with an open door to visit whenever we can. That’s a Mother’s Day…when we’re in their homes, driving to the store, or sitting by the fire watching a movie late at night talking and catching up.
So, Mother’s Day is any day and every day. It’s watching from the wings of my kids’ lives. It’s cheering them on or just listening and saying nothing at all. It’s being asked to help facilitate something in their lives (like babysitting). It’s just being connected even when not physically present…across the miles…forever tucked in hearts…whenever the one-whichever one-comes to mind.
A position of privilege-to honor like none other-both chosen and acquired-on any day-
It’s just “Mom”.
Sorting it Out... 