Mutha’s Day

Moms of kids from hard places see the Hallmark card commercials, of the little kids running in and giving these warm loving cards, drawing pictures, picking flowers for their moms, and a lot of times, cry at the pain of not having that experience.  They see their friends’ kids artwork on Facebook, breakfast in bed, burnt toast, happy smiling children spilling orange juice on your pillow in their excitement to give you the breakfast they made you, and moms with tears in their eyes at their baby growing up.  Moms of trauma kids, moms of foster kids, moms of RAD kids, moms of kids who rage and destroy and steal and lie, and instead of “I love you Mom” on Mother’s Day get “You mutha*&%$# c&^#! F%&^ you!”  School projects set off kids who have had other mothers, and the pain of losing them, the battle within them between love and hate, of letting go and letting love in and the fear of getting hurt again, rears it’s ugly head and the battle begins anew and the “day of celebration” becomes a battleground of pain and suffering on all sides.

Some moms dread this day.  They hate this day because it brings them pain for what they don’t have.  Hallmark and the card industry has given them the idea that this day should be perfect, sweet, and children should be smiling and obedient and happy.  Yeah, that’s television.  I’m here to tell you, trauma mommas, moms of kids from hard places, that while Mothers Day may be something you don’t celebrate because it causes pain to your child, you stand up proud and strong to be a mother.  You are the epitome of a true mother.  Your life is not sunshine and roses, hot dogs and apple pie.  You do not get the warm fuzzies and the hugs and the dandelions picked from the yard, messy kisses and muddy handprints on your shirt from the frequent hugs you get during the day.  You do not get the nice payback that other mothers get.  No, you get all your special glassware broken, your jewelry stolen, your computer hacked, your credit cards used, and your name drug through the mud as your child lies about how you treat them.  Yet you stand by your child, continually feeding, clothing, sheltering, providing for this child that gives you only pain and hate in return.  You love this child that hates you with a passion that you can’t believe exists in the body of a child.  You feel the pain of this child and cry tears for the pain this child has endured while said child lies awake at night planning your death.

You, dear trauma mommas, are the epitome of the word mother.  You are selfless, tireless, loving, giving, fighting for your child with the school, with mental health professionals, with residential treatment centers, with insurance companies, anyone who dares stand in the way between your child getting proper treatment and you.  You stay awake at night researching laws, insurance codes, therapists, everything you need to do to find the right help for your child.  You read books, attend seminars, conferences, and pretty much spend every penny on your child.  And you put up with the hate, the insults, the violence, the lies, the manipulations, the judgement of others, the interference of others sometimes, in your path to find healing for your child.  But you continue on, you hang in there, til your last breath, to the detriment of your own health, finances, relationships, family, and sometimes even your marriage.

You are worthy to be called mother.  You are truly WORTHY to be called mother.  The others, the Facebook cherub faced kids bringing breakfast to their mom – those moms are getting their paybacks every single day.  You get no payback, no rewards.  If they didn’t get those rewards, how would those moms react?  How would they react if their child started acting like YOUR child does?  They couldn’t begin to handle it, that’s what.  So stand proud, and strong, and wear that name MOTHER because you are what a mother truly is – a real mother.

You may not celebrate the day – but don’t run from it or be sad or ashamed.  Be proud.  You are one mutha of a mother.



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