The first Mother’s Day I celebrated with Tyler was in 1996. I was only pregnant with Tyler, but my sister thoughtfully sent me a card. I still have it. It reads,
“Hi Mom! Even though I haven’t been born yet, I wanted to wish you a happy Mother’s Day. I can hardly wait to see you and cuddle with you and play with the shower gifts. But in the meantime, just know that I already love you, and know you’ll make a great mom. Love, ?”
I cherished that card and its words, because even at that point, I wanted so much to connect with my baby. And connect we did, from the time I learned of his existence to the time he ceased to exist on this earth.
I won’t forget the first time we touched – on his first day of life, they lay him on my chest in a labor and delivery hospital bed, and he molded his tiny body to mine. I won’t forget the last time we touched – on his last day of life, I molded my body against his in a PICU hospital bed, taking great care not to tug on his lines and catheters.
The fifteen years of cuddles, hugs, back tickles, and hand-squeezes between our first and last physical contact will never feel like enough. Just as I longed to hold him (but could not) when he was growing inside me, I long to hold him (but cannot) now.
When I was a teenager, I used to sit in church and notice one particular mother. She had three sons; two who were also teenagers. I wondered what her secret was; while my peers and I wanted to be nowhere near our parents in public, her big strapping, athletic boys pressed next to her, leaned their heads on her shoulder, and draped their arms around her, not caring a whit what other kids might say about it.
I determined then and there that should I ever have sons, we would be like those boys and their mom.
As it turned out, I had only one son. And my girlhood dream of having an affectionate mother-son bond was realized. Was it the way I parented him that made him so cuddly and snuggly, was it modeled for him by his dad, or was it just the way he was wired? I’ll never know, but the results were the same.
When we were together, we connected through physical touch. As he took on the traits of a young man, I kept waiting for him to start pulling away, but he never did. In fact, as he surpassed my height by more than 8 inches, he seemed to take extra pleasure in leaning down to hug me, putting his arm around my shoulder, or holding my hand in his now larger hand.
My son was a true mama’s boy, but not in the negative sense that label usually invokes. He simply loved and treasured his mom, and wasn’t afraid to show it or say it out loud in front of his friends.
And as I continued to be blessed by my affectionate son year after year, I would often think of that woman in my church over 30 years ago. Observing her then, I knew I wanted what she had. And I never once took it for granted when I got it.
Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and it will be Mother’s Day. Each year, Tyler took great pleasure in his gift to me: treating me like “queen for the day.” His dad taught him to make a killer omelet, so that was always my choice for breakfast in bed. My Mother’s Days were filled with homemade cards, I love you’s and many warm hugs.
This Mother’s Day, I have already been showered by cards, notes and flowers from many of Tyler’s friends, beautifully demonstrating their love and support by recognizing what a difficult day it will be for me. Their thoughtfulness has warmed me deeply and made me smile.
Tomorrow will be another 24 hours of grieving, made worse by what the day symbolizes. I won’t get what I want…my son back in my arms. However, I hear that the hugs in heaven are hugs like none other. So one day, I will have what I want, just like I got what I wanted 15 years ago. And I won’t take it for granted then, either.