The Sage Connection

Mother’s Day has come and gone


Another Mother’s Day has come and gone. Some mothers celebrated for the first time…others for their last. Some mothers spent time with their family. Some sat at home alone.

Some mothers received gifts, praise and special meals. Others received a card or text message. Some received nothing but silence.

Some mothers have lost their children to disease, accidents or violent acts by others, while others have lost theirs to an addiction.

Some had to give their children up for adoption, and are still wondering if they did the right thing. Some lost their babies before they had the chance to breathe.

Some children spent their day remembering their mothers and wishing they were still here…others will breathe a secret sigh of relief that theirs are gone.

Some children will be a good deal older before they appreciate the struggles and mountains their mothers had to conquer. Life experience is like that.

I spent my Mother’s Day reflecting. I thought about my mother and mothers-in-law, about their strength, values and undying belief that tomorrow would be better.

I never knew my grandparents. They passed before I was born, but my mother, aunts and uncles worshiped my grandmother. Their voices changed when they spoke of her…became a little softer…you could feel the love.

I wonder what they would think if they were still here today. I am still amazed when I hear an expectant mother use the phrase “we are pregnant”.

When I was the expectant parent, I was pregnant. It was my belly in which the baby grew. My feet that swelled and my back that ached by the end of the day. I was the one that gained weight and threw up in the mornings.

But I was also the one who felt the first butterfly movement of my child. And as she grew inside me, more and stronger movements.

I was the one who sang to her before she was born. I was the one dreaming big dreams and hopes for her future. I brought her into the world filled with joy at finally being able to touch her.

Their father was excited and probably a little frightened.  I was thrilled to birth four daughters and saddened to lose three boys. But through it all, I was the one that was pregnant.

My babies and I had our own secret relationship long before I held them for the first time. We had silent conversations about who was who and what they would see and where we would go, before we separated for the last time.

I was more than happy to share them with their father after their arrival. The plan was to raise them together. He had his role and I had mine. The main job for both of us was to love them.

It was our job to raise them to be the best they could be. Kindness, manners, and respect for others that were different in some way, was the goal.

I used to tell my daughters there was nothing they could not be, but I also told them it was my job to tell them what they needed to hear, not what they wanted to hear. If you are brilliant take the bow. If you are wrong take the blow, but keep on trying.

Today that is considered by many to be cruel.  Times change. Role models change. Verbiage may change. Mothers do not.

We still cry when our feelings are hurt, or are  ignored, forgotten  or left out. And we still do it alone, privately. Our hearts still break when theirs do, or when they themselves are broken and we can’t fix them.

We still feel our hearts burst with joy at their achievements, large or small. We still dream for them, hope for them, encourage and believe in them, even when they themselves cannot.

We still do the best we can, without the ultimate instruction book they never arrived with. We are still their mothers, no matter their age. And we always will be.

Kathleen Anderson writes this column each week from her home in Olympia.  Contact her at or post your comment below.


1 comment on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here

  • Drutty

    Beautifully written, with love obviously.

    Thursday, May 12 Report this