Mother's Day -- What it is

Firstly, if you can't handle the hard stuff, the taboo conversations, the bad mental images, don't even read this entry. I mean to not offend, but I can't handle to hear bad opinions most have on the subject.

Mother's Day, do you know what is really is about? Why we have it? What it means? When it started? A blogger I follow explains it as this (I intend not to steal, but she puts it so well in her blog "by the brooke"),

***"At some point--a while back--I happened to come across an article about the history of Mother's Day. Did you know that it emerged as a national holiday in the aftermath of the Civil War? Mother's Day originally wasn't about presents and breakfast in bed. It was about grief, and war, and politics, and feminism. It was an outcry against the pain and horror of the Civil War, from mothers who desperately wanted to ensure that another generation of sons wouldn't be slaughtered on the battlefield. It wasn't really about celebrating mothers, it was about recognizing the heartbreak and sorrow that comes from having your family torn apart.

Here is Julia Ward Howe's Mother's Day Proclamation from 1870:

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, But of God.
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace."I love that this call goes out not just to women who are actively parenting children, but to "all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be of water or tears!" I guess the nineteenth century knew all too well that motherhood can be a baptism of tears, that not everyone who has a baby gets to bring that baby home. We do this because we are all part of the great human family, and in "in the name of womanhood and humanity" we deserve a day dedicated to taking account of what has been lost and ensuring that we take good care of what has been left. It's a call for women to be proactive, well-informed, agents of their own destinies: "We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies." In a world where so much is out of our control, women are called to come forward, to tell their stories, to leave their mark, to mourn their children. That's more than a Hallmark holiday. It's a Mother's Day with great meaning for all of us, whether our children are living or dead.""****

And so there that is, a day to remember for more reasons than what America has made it to be.

Atop are my sweet orchids from my husband -- I don't know what I would do without him.

Onto my story. Last night I miscarried my baby. I was 9 weeks. I had horrible pains, contraction like pains, I could hardly breathe. I was alone. Garrett was at work. I passed the baby last night. I saw him/her -- my Baby Bear. The perfect tiny fingers and hands, the perfect feet and toes, the ribs, legs, arms, eyes. It was heartbreaking and no one should EVER have to go through that -- especially alone as the day turned to Mother's Day, also the day before I would have given birth to my first miscarried angel baby. I hysterically called Garrett at work, and his higher up let him come home to be with me. We wrapped the baby in tissue paper and put him in a ziplock bag -- I could not flush my child. As much as those claim that wasn't a baby -- He/she WAS. I had Garrett see the baby, not because I made him do so, but I just couldn't stand to be the only one who has that mental image for the rest of my life. As selfish as that sounds. We are going to put the baby to rest in the Pacific Ocean at sunset. The sunsets here, and by any ocean, are beautiful. Plus, all oceans connect somewhere, so no matter where we are moved next, I will have my oceans and my sunsets and in the background my Baby Bear/s. Its fucking unfair.