A belated post I wrote on my phone on Mothering Sunday but didn’t publish then as I was away without access to my laptop. Its unfinished, but I want to include it here because this blog is a record of all my feelings and emotions to do with the journey, including the negative and the ranty!
This post has been ‘brewing’ for a while. A friend of mine got the unedited, full barrelled version over the phone earlier in the week and was left speechless. That for him is saying something!
I have found Mothering Sunday as its called in church, Mother’s Day as its known everywhere else, more and more difficult as the years have gone on. As the years have ticked by and I realised it was becoming less and less likely I would get married and have children its become more difficult. And the church, who is supposed to defend the rights of the orphan and hear the cry of the barren, hasn’t helped. As the years have passed, the church has seemingly embraced more and more the greetings card extravaganza of society. We have few festivals and celebrations in the church these days, but it seems to me, if the church had lost the orgins of another of its celebrations as much as it has ‘Mothering Sunday’ there’d be uproar.
Don’t get me wrong, its not all bad. Some use today to reclaim God as Mother and to celebrate the seemingly feminine characteristics of God, but the churches where that happen are few and far between. Some do celebrate motherhood and recognise both that not everone who ‘mothers’ is female nor do they have to be biologically related to you. The mother’s day flowers at these churches are given out to people who have ‘mothered’ you both male and female, related or not – because face it you will have already bought your Mum a much nicer bunch of flowers than what’s on offer at church! One of these types of services moved me to tears – where previously I, as an unmarried childless woman would have no flowers, that day I went home with several bunches because children from the school I taught in decided to give me them instead!
But its not even about the flowers. Its about being seen and heard and acknowledged amongst all the celebrations. Some people find this day difficult and painful and they’d just like that to be recognised and understood.
This year, personally, I’m finding it difficult because, there is a chance I might become a mother afterall, and whilst I’d like to join in and try and celebrate, I still can’t let myself because it is only a ‘might’. At this stage its a possibility, may be even a probability, but certainly not a given.
And then I stop and think about all those children in care waiting for a family (in whatever form that takes) and how painful today must be. I think about those children up and down the country who have had to take part in Mother’s day assemblies and sing vomit inducing, toe curling songs about how amazing mothers are, when that hasn’t been their experience.
And I know if I do become a mother through adoption, this day will not magically transform into the greetings card mush – it’ll be bittersweet and probably still carry with it a lot of pain both for me and my children.