There’s Always Another Side to the Coin

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This Sunday, I’m going to experience my first Mother’s Day with a baby in my arms. Last Mother’s Day, she was a little tiny thing, floating around inside my stomach. And this year, she’s 16 pounds of chubby-thighed cuteness, with curly wisps of strawberry blonde hair and a smile that makes my heart flip.


Me, my mom, my grandma, and Libbie at Christmas

I do miss being with my mom on Mother’s Day, though. The last one we were together was the day I graduated from college–May 9, 2004. It was an incredible, wonderful day. I need to scan in some of those pictures to share with you. I was just gleeful, surrounded by my and my then-fiance’s families. Moving out last-minute things from our side-by-side on-campus apartments. Saying sweet good-byes to friends. Getting ready to be married.

The next day, Mr. V and I drove to Nashville to pick out an apartment. The day after that, my daddy’s best friend died of liver cancer.


Anyway, that’s not where I was going. Suffice to say, that Mother’s Day–that summer–held a lot of bittersweet. I’ve not been near my mom for any decent length of time since then, except for when Libbie was born. I miss her. We have a great relationship. On this Mother’s Day I feel doubly blessed to have an awesome mom who loves me to pieces AND to be a mom who loves my own daughter immensely.


But I know it’s not that way for everyone. Or maybe even for many. I wonder how this day will be for my best friend, who just lost her mom. I wonder how it is for Libbie’s “MawMaw,” who is estranged from her mother (and for good reason). How it is for my dad, whose mom is in the hospital with fluid around her heart, struggling to get by for the last three years. How painful this day is for those who are desperately wanting to feel the kicks of a baby in their womb, like one of my best friends here in Nashville.

It breaks my heart to think of the hurt.

What is Mother’s Day like for you?

2 thoughts on “There’s Always Another Side to the Coin

  1. I miss the breakfast in bed my kids used to make me. Granted, it was awful (half-cooked bacon, soggy cereal, warm milk, and cold toast), but when we all piled up in the bed so they could watch me eat and exclaim how wonderful everything was … well, it was just great! I miss those days.

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