When I was little, mother’s day was about my mom. It was nice. I knew nothing else.
Then when I wanted kids and found myself lacking for several years, mother’s day became a hard pill to swallow. But I still had my mom.
Then my mom died and I got pregnant. That first Mother’s Day, while pregnant, was difficult and bittersweet.
And every year since, Mother’s Day has been bittersweet. Some times more sweet than bitter, but often not more bitter than sweet.
Happy Mother’s Day, Robbin! I think of you often and miss you always. It pains my heart something fierce that you’ll never get to meet my two munchkins. But I know you are near and watching over us. I hope I make you proud.