Happy (Blank) Day to you

It's Mother's Day! 

I know I totally should do something all profound and original and not just repeat last year's blog post, but it still rings very true, and I love, cherish, and deeply respect all the mommies I wrote about last year. 

Really.  Love ya'll.  Mean it.

But allow me to get kinda introspective for a sec.

This day is a little bittersweet for me too.  Even though they celebrate Mother's Day in Vietnam on Mua Vu Lan, the seventh full moon on the calendar year - and a Buddhist holiday (about which I will decline to comment so as not to oh-fend all the Buddhists who read my blog.  Natch.) - which means the second Sunday in May is really just another day for them.  Even so, I still think about her.

I think about how her swollen feet must have ached as she carried my growing daughter in her belly.  I think of the alternating anxiety and joy she must have felt every time she felt the baby kick - her heart swelling in love, but also breaking in pain, knowing she could not care for this child the way she should.  Or when the first labor pain ripped through her body, and how she must have pushed with all her strength, pushing this tiny, black-haired, dimpled baby out into the world, and yet wanting desperately to keep her still inside of her - safe, protected, and always a part of her. And how hearing the baby's first cries must have hurt far worse than the physical pain of childbirth, knowing she would be unable to answer those cries with soothing kisses.  Or how she must feel now, every time she looks at a little girl Aria's age and wonders...just wonders... 

Not a day goes by that I don't marvel at something Aria Grace says or does, and think to myself, "Wow, if only she could see her.  And know.  And believe".  But it is here that I must stop before I begin to weep, and simply ask the Holy Spirit to intercede for me to let her know that Aria is alright.  I ask Him to absolve her of her pain, her guilt, her anguish.  That the Peace That Passes All Understanding will fill her heart and assure her this child is happy.  Healthy.  Safe.  Loved.  Cherished. 

Many people, Chris included, have encouraged me to write to Aria's birth mother and the orphanage to let them know how well she is doing.  How perfect she is. 

I can't do it...

Because words absolutely fail me.

There is no way to describe the gift my children are.  Writing (typing) words on paper seems to do an utter injustice to the abundance of peace, contentment, and joy they've brought to my heart.  I can't imagine the sacrifices so many people have made for me to be a mother to these children, and I am struck absolutely dumb with humility.

Side eye to anyone who wants to make a snarky comment to that last sentence.  (Chris.  Kick.)

Anyway, I figure when the timing is right and God has the proper words for me to say, He'll help me write it.  God's grace.

Changed my mind.  I actually did want to write something profound today after all!

And so on this, my third Mother's Day as an actual Mother, I'll share a little something I've learned about myself.  For me, Mother's Day is about reflecting on:  my own mother, Saint Vivi, and how much she means in my life; my mother-in-law, Mimi, and the graceful way she has weathered life's most terrible storm; my sister-in-law, through whom I was imparted the most incalcuably valuable gift of Caroline. 

But it's also about celebrating the Two treasures that are Aria and Caroline, the Two that have made me a Mother.

In other words, my Mother's Day is not about me being their mother.  It's about them being my daughters. 

So I'm renaming it...

Happy Aria and Caroline Day to me! 

And Happy [Insert Child's Name Here] Day to YOU!

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