And so it will be, tomorrow again, another Mother's Day.

It's a day I have come to dread...but it wasn't always that way.  It was Mom's favorite holiday-"a whole day for moms," she would say.  She believed that Moms could, should and did run the world.  She loved that title-quite possibly her favorite title, behind wife.

But then she got sick.  She and my dad called me from the doctor's office and told me to meet them at a restaurant and although it was once a cute little tea room that I loved, it will forever be the place my mom told me she was dying.  Gross.  Stupid.  File under: memories to forget.

That may have been the day I started hating Mother's Day.  Why did all my friends get to celebrate this special day with their mom who wasn't dying?

The past years have held so much pain in this day. I hated everyone who had a mom they became friends with as an adult-a world I would never know, all the while hating all of my friends who "got" to be moms-the only title I ever knew, with absolute certainty, I wanted.

The birth announcement.
The baby shower.
The hospital visit.
The fresh baby smell.
First smiles.
First steps.
First words.
First hugs.

The perfect picture.  I painted it when I was small and it was crystal clear, never wavering...and none of it happened to me.

It was all I wanted.  I spent a lot of moments over the years sad about my circumstances-questioning my worthiness, questioning God, wondering why.

And then one day it all changed and I decided to stop being a victim of my life.  I am in charge of my destiny.  Nobody but me is keeping me from the things I want.



And I came to grips with the conversations people had with me, with the conversations I began having with myself...

Change the picture.
Change the method.
Change the course.

DON'T. CHANGE. THE. GOAL.

And for the first time in twelve years, I will embrace Mother's Day.  I will be forever grateful that I had a mom who taught me the importance of reading books together before bed, making meals, and so many hugs.  Today I will embrace my foster son and all the mixed up emotions that come with him having his first Mother's Day without his mom.  I will read him books.  We will make dinner.  I will hug him tight.

I will celebrate all the firsts, the first that look and feel different but still fill my heart with my joy than I thought it could hold...
The first full cry with big tears, a few weeks ago.
The first time he mimicked our bedtime routine, last week.
The first time he shortened his recovery time, this week.
The first hug that he initiated, yesterday.
The first, "I'm sorry," he wasn't forced to say, today.

The goal never changed, it just looks a little different...and it's every bit as wonderful as I knew it would be.