Mother's day is rough. It's probably the hardest day of the year for me because it carries the weight of so much loss- both the loss of my own mother, and my childrens' loss of their first mother. It's very, very hard for me to be happy on this day.

A friend of mine whom I have incredible respect for wrote this, and I think it speaks beautifully to the multifaceted nuances of a woman's relationship to her mother:

"it is amazing to me how a part of me will always remain a child, a little girl, who’d like nothing more than to curl up beside her mother and listen to her speak. it is a sense memory, a longing, that i doubt i will ever be free of.

as the years pass, life has given me an attitude towards my mother that i think i have never known before: a gentle tolerance for her faults, and eyes that see and scan her form every so often, noting the places, like her hands and feet, where her lived life has begun to show. there is a steadfastly growing concern within me for her well-being, her health, her peace of mind. it very oddly makes me want to cradle her, to shelter her somehow from the hardships life has always brought her way.

it is as if, suddenly, i have been given new eyes which have ceased to look at her childishly, selfishly. as if, overnight, i suddenly understand—and feel deeply—what all the working late at nights meant. and in the face of this, i feel humbled and ashamed. because i was mad at her a lot. for working such odd hours. for having to come home to a house that did not have her waiting in it.

to only come at this realization now, so late in the game, seems deeply cruel in my mind. for both of us, yes. but for her, most especially.

i love my mom now in a way that i know i have never loved her before, and it makes me want to sit here and weep. in all my life, i have never found anything that so soothes my spirit the way my mother’s love and gentleness can. never. never. never. it is this undeniable balm that literally has me at her feet, every time.

when i think of her, my heart feels full, to the brim, aching. and i want, childishly, desperately, to somehow pay her back in an instant for EVERYTHING. for every restless night, for every lie that broke her heart, for every single time i ever accused her of not loving me well or good enough.

such a foolish girl, with silly foolish thoughts.

i have a mother who loves me, perfectly, imperfectly, and i know deep in my soul that i have been so magnificently blessed by her. i have a mother who loves me so hard that i can trace the evidence of it in every dip and bend and bow of her body.

mom, i blow a thousand kisses to your tired hands, your aching feet—for their crooked shape, for their stark, prominent veins, for the rough and the not so smooth—because i can think of nothing else that stands testament to how deeply you have loved us."

On this day, I am thankful for the moments I had with my own mother. Although I still miss her desperately, I'm beginning to see some of her influences reflected in how we're raising the twins. She's here in spirit, if not in body.

I am endlessly grateful for the opportunity to be a mother to my two children, who continue to amaze me daily, and I still grieve for the circumstances and sacrifices that allowed my children to become mine.

I am thankful to my mother-in-law for raising my husband to be the man that he is today.

And I am thankful to all of the women in my life who inspire me, encourage me, and help me along the way as I try to become the very best mother I can possibly be.