The Many Forms

Sunday morning I wake up and sing myself a little song: happy mother's day to me, happy mother's day to me. Of all my 23 years celebrating this holiday, I am now on the receiving end, as well as the giving end. I don't wake to breakfast in bed made by my husband. I don't wake to marker stained hands passing me homemade cards. I don't wake to a full family cuddle. No, this is no catalogue snap shot; not the quintessential all-American holiday, at least for my family.

Today I learn that parenthood comes in many forms. For some, a young woman marries her Mexican lover with three children. For others, a man adopts the child of his x-fiancé whose father is a Panamanian living in Nicaragua. Perhaps for others still, a woman is artificially inseminated and raises her children with another woman. For me, my child dies inside me days before her expected entrance. We, and countless others, redefine motherhood daily with courage and creativity. We do so because it is our only reality. We do so because love requires this of us.

Today I learn to reshape my preconceptions of motherhood. I try to move beyond, yes still with sadness and yearning, baby clothes and the eyes of family members as they play with her. I move beyond what I didn't get and focus on what I do have. I have a child who brings beauty to the world in ways I could have never imagined. I have a loving boyfriend who shares in our parenthood. I have a child who teaches and challenges me. I have a child who brings forth the deepest of my emotions; requires the most and best of me. I cannot watch her learn to crawl, I cannot hear her giggles, I cannot smell her baby blond hair. But I can feel her. And I do. Arianna and I are growing together and bonding closer and with more clarity in tangible ways. My motherhood and Ari's daughterhood are strong enough to overcome death. Our love is great enough to wade through the shock and sorrow to refind what is still ours. We are strong enough that nothing can undue what already was. How could this be otherwise?

I do not feel sad today because I am a mother, unequivocally, and Ari is my daughter, irrevocably.