A year ago, Brian and I became the legal guardians of our niece, Jennifer. It was a difficult and emotionally fraught journey, and in the end, we were overwhelmed with gratitude that we were able to provide shelter, stability, and love to this amazing young woman.
But something a little weird started happening around Mid-April. People, mostly female friends, started asking, “What are you doing for your first mother’s day?”
Now, my own feelings about Mother’s Day are … well, detailed in this blog post. Long story short — not my favorite holiday. Add to that five years of taking Jennifer out to buy presents for my older sister, her abuser. Gifts Jen would agonize over for weeks, and watching my older sister react with indifference at best or, “It’s not what I wanted.”
And add to that the whole guilt of the Adoptive Parent. I am not her birth mother, never will be, and it feels presumptuous to even jokingly refer to myself as “momming it up around here.” In general, we avoid the M-word around the house as too triggering. I am Jennifer’s Parent, her Aunt, or just Reasie.
So, no, we didn’t plan anything for Mother’s Day, and I never breathed a word about it in Jennifer’s hearing. Hell, I practically steered her away from all gift-card displays the entire month of May lest they upset her. And if a tiny part of me daydreamed about being surprised with a flower or a card or a mimosa brunch, well … I kept that to myself. Mother’s day came and went unremarked and I felt proud of myself for not feeling too surprised nor disappointed. “Okay,” I said. “We got past that.”
Okay, not entirely unremarked: My friend Patty Marvel and her husband left a gift bag on my porch with colorful pens and a Hello Kitty travel cup, which were very thoughtful gifts given my fondness for Hello Kitty and doodling with colorful pens. Also, I received about 5 text messages from various friends wishing me a happy day, including one from my Writing Mom, Mary Turzillo.
And then suddenly everyone I saw — co-workers, cashiers, neighbors, writing buddies — was asking me “What did you do for Mother’s Day?” It felt like a constant barrage. I smiled and said “Nothing. No, I’m not disappointed. I wouldn’t want to pressure Jen into something like that. Honestly, she spent the weekend at her boyfriend’s.”
I felt like I was being Very Adult.
Then I was driving Jen home from hanging out with friends in Coventry, and she happily told me that she’d bought something for her boyfriend’s mom for Mother’s day.
And … I couldn’t help it. All the mature, adult feelings flew out of the window and I was a messy ball of hurt. “She likes Elijah’s mom better than me,” was all I could think.
I don’t remember what I said, probably something like, “Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you.” It was like walking past your parents arguing. I had no idea if I was hiding my feelings and the need to not emote was filling up all my processing power. I barely saw the road. Somehow we made it home. Jen went happily up to her room, and I broke down to my husband.
I begged him not to tell her about my sadness, but when I tried to leave dinner early that night, he stopped me and gave me a hug. It was such an obvious TELL that I was upset, I snapped at him and ran to the living room sofa to sulk.
And he told her why I was upset. I heard them whispering in the kitchen, that oh-so-notable sound of one’s own name that peeks out from the hush of muffled words.
Jen came and sat next to me on the sofa looking so mature and loving, and told me that she loves me, and Elijah’s mom was great, but would never beat the person who had saved her from abuse. And we hugged and I cried a little.
And I felt like the worst, most selfish mom on the planet.
