I hate Mother’s Day
Seems fitting I would start my blogging career on Mother’s day, a holiday I have despised for over fifty years. Contrary to the popular cynical belief, Mother’s Day was not invented by card companies to sell greeting cards, but ceaselessly lobbied for, by Anna Jarvis to honor her own mother. But having read a little more about the subject on Wikipedia, I think I am even more justified in my loathing of this fairly recent, and– if you ask me — pretty selfishly imagined, American holiday.
“In1912 Anna Jarvis trademarked the phrases “Second Sunday in May” and “Mother’s Day”, and created the Mother’s Day International Association.She specifically noted that “Mother’s” should “be a singular possessive, for each family to honor its own mother, not a plural possessive commemorating all mothers in the world.” (wikipedia)
The reason for my rather strident and unpleasant opinion of Mother’s Day comes from the fact that I did not have a mother growing up, not since I was three years old when my mother decided to take her own life, as my brother and I slept in the next room.
Early in my marriage, I had a hard time hiding my resentment and anger, when I had to endure the inevitable traffic jams on the George Washington Bridge, and make the obligatory drive to New Jersey with my husband, to celebrate his mother.
I dare say, my own two boys also felt I ruined Mother’s Day, with my not-so-hidden feelings about this stupid and meaningless holiday. At best, I pretended I didn’t care and didn’t want any presents or special dinner, which left them — and my husband —in a kind of damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t, no-win scenario.
But as I have always done in my semi-autobiographical fiction writing, I gave my strident, unpleasant beliefs about Mother’s Day to my alter-ego Gabby Weiss, in my very first published novel, What Every Girl (except me) Knows. And as I have always done in my semi-autobiographical fiction writing, I made Gabby a bit more likable and a lot less angry than I was in real life.
But Gabby would now be thirty years-old (me, considerably older), and I think it’s about time for her (and me) to grow up.
So today is Mother’s Day and here’s what I have to say about it:
Giving birth to my first son in 1987, and becoming a mother myself, was the single most healing thing in my life at that time. It was the moment when for the first time, there was a human being on this earth, who was fully connected to me by circumstance and by blood. He belonged to me and I belonged to him, and nothing in the world could change that.
And while that is still true, there is now another truth that also exists– There are many in my life to whom I am not related by blood, but who are as connected to me as any person could ever be. People like my husband, and like my so many, wonderful, kind, loyal, supportive, honest, and true friends who I know –and finally understand — will never leave me.
Okay, so I’m never going to go around saying “Happy Mother’s Day” to everyone I see, with a big, guileless smile on my face- I just can’t. Besides, you just don’t ever know a person’s story, that stranger you are dropping saccharine sweet salutations to, on this second Sunday in May.
But, the truth is, I have always wanted more than almost anything in the world, to know, to believe that my mother loved me. To hear her say, just once: You are my daughter, my special little girl. My one and only. I love you.
Just once.
I wish I could hear her tell me it wasn’t my fault that she died. That she was sorry for leaving me alone.
That I wasn’t bad, and ugly, unwanted, and unloveable. I would give (almost) anything to have one memory of her, of her face, her smile, her voice, her laugh. Her hair. Her hands. Her love. Her mothering.
Did she brush my hair?
Kiss the scrape on my knee?
Cut my hot dog into little pieces?
Tuck me in at night?
Did she tuck me in that night and tell me she loved me? Did she do the dishes, return her library books? Pay the bills? Make sure there was milk and cereal for us in the morning? Had she just done the laundry? Did she read a bedtime story to me and my brother? Then kiss us good-night?
Knowing she’d never see us again, did she tell us everything was going to be all right?
(Believe me Mom..it wasn’t.)
But now on this, my fifty-third Mother’s Day without a mother I want to smile. I mean, I really want to smile. I want to say, Happy Mother’s Day!
Because, when you think about it, my mother gave me a sorrow that helps me care deeply and authentically about the pain of others. She gave me a profound loneliness that forced me to find my voice and to become a writer. She gave the unmeasurable gift of knowing that if you want something in this life, you better to go get it yourself.
It’s not like wanting something really badly makes it happen.
My mother’s death gave me an unerring appreciation for every single day that the sun rises, my dog licks my face, my children are healthy, my cat is not eaten by a coyote, and my husband makes me go with him when he wants to travel somewhere.
And I know my mother must have loved me those few, short years we had together, because I survived.
And because I can love.
Gae Polisner
May 13, 2018 - 2:54 am ·Lovely, Nora. In Buddhism – the tiny bit I know — we are ALL kind mothers. Not to mention, you and I have now birthed two manuscript babies together. Happy mother’s day. Love you.
Erika Victor
May 13, 2018 - 12:35 pm ·Way to start a blog- keeping it real.
Denise Weintraut
May 13, 2018 - 12:38 pm ·I love the way you have come to find the good even amongst enduring pain. It is a fitting reminder that not all of us have something to celebrate on Mother’s Day. We need to be cognizant of this when we work with students, greet others, or even when we share our joys. Thank you for this reminder, Nora!
Tricia Tierney
May 13, 2018 - 12:56 pm ·Wonderful entrance – and yes, perfect you launch on Mother’s Day. We always called it the Hallmark holiday in my house and I’ve never loved it either.
Kristen Picone
May 13, 2018 - 12:59 pm ·Sending you lots of love. ❤️ Thank you for starting a blog and sharing your story. I had a conversation with my students on Friday about why we hadn’t made Mother’s Day gifts. We read the picture book Family is a Family is a Family as a reminder that all families look different and some may not be celebrating or feel left out of this day. I hope you do smile today and bask in the love of family and friends. Xoxo
Pam Warren
May 13, 2018 - 1:44 pm ·Beautiful. Aching. Truth. Healing. Hopeful.
Your first blog was a smack – a fabulous smack. I look forward to more.
Pamela Linden
May 13, 2018 - 1:45 pm ·This is beautiful. Thank you.
Laura
May 13, 2018 - 1:58 pm ·Beautiful friend. XOXO
Michelle Haseltine
May 13, 2018 - 2:00 pm ·These words touch me so deeply. Thank you for sharing your journey, in regards to this day. I, myself, have my own painful relationship to this day and dread it every year. I love how your reflection leads you to a place of wisdom…acceptance…love. (YAY! You’re blogging too!!! Whoopppiiieee!!!!)
Soul M
May 13, 2018 - 2:19 pm ·You’re amazing ❤️
Jane Broder
May 13, 2018 - 2:42 pm ·Beautifully said Nora! ❤️
Effie Andriotis
May 13, 2018 - 2:59 pm ·I am so moved by this… You are amazing ❤️
Tess
May 13, 2018 - 3:00 pm ·Your words made me feel less alone on this day. As a daughter whose mother is still alive but who may as well not be, I recognize how you feel. As a mother of three boys to hold and two other children who will never be able to be held by my aching arms, I know. I know Mother’s Day is a dichotomous mix of emotions. Thank you for putting into words what many women feel today.
Julie DeMicco
May 13, 2018 - 3:28 pm ·I love this, Nora. Thank you! I’m so sorry you had to grow up without a mom. I didn’t lose my mom until college, but I sure didn’t feel grown up yet. It’s a club I really don’t want to belong to. Thank you for your beautiful words on this day that I really don’t like either.
Edward Averett
May 13, 2018 - 4:04 pm ·Nicely done, Nora Baskin. Lovely writing and sentiment. My mother is also long gone and I, too, had a conflicted relationship with her. I am sadly far from the place where I can write about it. I love your blog post and wait for many more. Best, eja
Amy Koss
May 13, 2018 - 6:18 pm ·Life. ❤️
Julie Kirchner
May 13, 2018 - 6:42 pm ·You always blow me away with your writing. Thank you for sharing your story today. Love and hugs to you my friend.
Karen
May 13, 2018 - 6:55 pm ·Wow, what an amazing blog. Thank you for being honest, both in your blog and writing.
Paula Bourque
May 13, 2018 - 8:01 pm ·From your pain you have shred such beauty and offered deep healing through story. It is from our choices and role in our own stories where we find who we really are- not from the actions of others or a holiday to remind us. I am so sorry you have faced such pain and so grateful you have used it to be a light to others. The world could certainly use more of this.
sheryl kraft
May 13, 2018 - 8:16 pm ·Touching and beautiful. We never know what type of silent imprint someone will leave on us.
Lesley Roessing
May 13, 2018 - 9:40 pm ·I really think that holidays are stressful. If you don’t celebrate or don’t have a reason to celebrate, you feel alone and excluded. If you celebrate, you feel that you have to celebrate “appropriately” and you must be the happiest or most excited you ever have been. The pressure is sometimes unbearable. I am just trying to celebrate every day and all the people in my life.
Sarah Aronson
May 13, 2018 - 10:41 pm ·As always, you have made me pause and think and feel. Thank you for sharing this. Your voice is a blessing. Here’s to a happy Mother’s Day. And a hug.
Beth
May 14, 2018 - 1:33 am ·Thank you for writing this. Love that you give your gift of writing to the world. Love you!
Lalanya Way
May 14, 2018 - 9:27 pm ·I never knew this about you. But it explains why you reached out to me at 12 years old and made a friend for life, before we became relatives. You have an amazing joyous heart that gives all you have to those around you. I love you and thanks for sharing this.
Angie Forero
May 17, 2018 - 9:12 pm ·Wow … thank you for sharing.
Wendy Scalfaro
July 11, 2018 - 12:26 pm ·Nora, This is so very poignant and important. I feel this way about Father’s Day, for different reasons.
Nora
July 11, 2018 - 12:51 pm ·I hear you…sadly.
John
May 10, 2020 - 12:05 am ·Nora, I can relate, being raised by a deeply pained mother. Thank you for your honest insight. Happy Mother’s Day to you, a woman who is clearly a loving mother to her own sons. Enjoy your connection with them! And thank you for your blog, which I just discovered as a fellow Purchase alum.
Nora
May 10, 2020 - 10:33 am ·hello..hey..Thank you. And happy Mother’s Day. Again. Stay well.
Nora
May 10, 2020 - 11:22 am ·And to add: my heart goes out to you as well. But clearly, we share a kind of empathy we otherwise might not have had.