Today is Mother’s Day, and I can’t help but wonder if you are out there somewhere, a mother with your own children. In my heart, I can’t see how this could be. If you were alive, and had children of your own, how could your mother’s heart not remember me? They say that you can never really understand what it is like to be a mom until you have children of your own, but I think you always knew. Last night I watched the movie “Baby Boom” and I remember watching it with you. I remember that you cried, and I think it takes some kind of special knowledge of the bond between a mother and child for that movie to make you cry. Afterwards you hugged me and said that when you grew up you wanted to be like me, and stay home with your own kids.
Oh, how many feelings that brings up. First, the sorrow over the likelihood that you were robbed of the opportunity to have and love your own children. Second … well, it is hard to put into words, but it just goes back to the strength of the bond that existed between the two of us, between you and me. And still, I am incredulous as to how some random stranger could come along and steal you in spite of that bond. You know, it’s like it should have been at least as strong as those magic bike locks that keep people from walking off with your bicycle when you lock it to a pole. I know, it doesn’t make sense, but it just doesn’t seem right, you know?
So on Mother’s Day I will spend the day with your brothers and sisters (except for Alex, who lives kind of far away now), and I will enjoy the day. But I will never forget that you are the one who first made me into a mommy, who transformed by heart and my life with the grasp of your tiny hand around my finger.
I will never forget. I will love you forever, Michaela.