Happy Mother’s Day — first, to the mom I was pre-surgery: The sun with shine again. Their noise will bother you less and your desire to enter their worlds will increase. Your day won’t be thrown by the ebbs and flows of childhood normalcy: spilled drinks, busy schedules, stains on the couch, and forgotten lacrosse gear.

And to the mom I feel I am now: Forgive yourself. The mom you remember with a pit in your stomach now is still the mom your kiddos needed then. There were so many spots of sunshine, even among your cloudiest days. You were hurting and hardened but you bent over backwards to hide them from nearly any bit of it.

And even if after what could very well be a current state of post-op euphoria, you find yourself thrown by the mundane you’ll be able to rest in your new definition of hope —

“True hope is nourished, against all reasoning, in the dark places. My old definition of hope only functioned in the context of white-knuckled control. But when I allowed that version to die, a newer, truer version of hope rose in its place. My hope is in a divine love that is working behind the scenes to make sense out of all the senselessness.” -Katherine Wolf, Treasures in the Dark

Happy Mother’s Day 🤍 To all the versions of motherhood so many of us have and will hold.

To my mom, for showing me how to treasure slowness, make every day moments special and who fostered a heart in all three of us for the hopeless or hurting.

To my mother-in-law, for passing along all the traits that made me fall for T — loyalty, hard work and a gentle spirit.