Anxiety is really small word. Only 7 letters. Seven little letters. But what those seven letters hold can never truly be described. The raw burning of them can never really be given a true and fair ‘about me‘, so to speak. Even if you find 7 million big words to try to do the job.

My personal anxiety has been steadily building this week, as Mother’s Day approaches. My very own literal D-Day. A very large part of me wants to do nothing more than set fire to the earth that my feet are still standing on. Another part just wants to escape this world and free fall for a little while. Anything. Anything to not really acknowledge that it’s already Mother’s Day. My first one as a Mother. Without the person who gave me the privilege to wear that badge.

Because, I still am a mother you know. Just in case you’re one of those people who can’t seem to wrap their head around how I can still call myself that without any living children. And if in fact you are one of those people, feel free to walk directly into that fire I’d like to set to this earth. It’s nothing personal. Honestly. But maybe you should learn the burning anxiety that so many of us Momma’s are feeling. And let me clarify, we feel this everyday, not just on Mother’s Day. It’s just that days like these and other family oriented holidays seem to make that burn a little stronger, and the raw pain a little more fierce.

Sometimes I think even my son’s father doesn’t understand it. And not because he didn’t lose Kam in the same capacity as I have. He did. He lost him every bit as much as me. But he still has another living child. So it’s different for us, in that aspect. When Father’s Day rolls around, he will still have a living, breathing child that calls him Dad. I won’t get that come Sunday. In fact, I never heard my son call me Momma. I never heard him say anything, as not many 2 and half week olds tend to do much talking. And I never will. That’s a really hard pill to swallow.

But I will say, he did give me the best advice of anyone thus far. And not that I recognized it at the time, because I didn’t. I was honestly a little annoyed, and almost angry. But he told me, it’s only gonna be as sad as I make it. In reference to Mother’s Day that is.

And you know what, he’s right. Who says I have to spend all day Sunday hiding in bed, buried beneath my freshly washed duvet? Why should I feel sad all day? Obviously, I am going to have some tough moments. But that’s an every day thing. I’m not going to miss my Kam any more than I do every other waking moment. So I can’t let a Hallmark label make me want to stop the world. I already know that it’s not possible to do that, even if I did want to. Trust me, I’ve tried.

And when I look at it even further, to not acknowledge this day, means that I’m not acknowledging my son. And there will never be a day when I do not acknowledge Kamren. Because without him, I would never have gotten the honor to call myself a mama. Even if I am a bereaved one. And it also means that I wouldn’t be acknowledging my own mother, which is definitely not okay. I wouldn’t be half the woman I am if I didn’t belong to her. So, to now acknowledge what an amazing soul she is, and how desperately I’ve always needed her, would just be down right selfish. And pretty outlandish.

SherBear – you were first my Mama, and now my best friend. I don’t know how I’d survive this life without you. Thank you. For not giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself. For loving me when I was pretty unlovable. And for letting me grow in my own direction, trusting that I’d come back around. Because of you, I did. I will always love you, but probably never as fiercely as you’ve always loved me. And for that, I’m thankful and eternally grateful.

Lastly, and this is the most important, I have to acknowledge this day for my other warrior Mamas navigating this journey that they didn’t chose. You are phenomenal. You are one of the best mothers to ever exist. So this day is for you. To honor you. And recognize your everlasting and eternal love. Who else could mother your child like you? Even in death? That’s right. Absolutely no one. So you, sweet mama, deserve all the acknowledgement and love in the world. And on Sunday, I hope that’s exactly what you get. In whatever form that makes sense to you.