The wisdom arrived on a weekend in April, four weeks before any official acknowledgement of Mother’s Day appeared on the agenda. Once the concept of birthed days and birthing days hit the horizon of my soul, there was an explosion of fireworks, awe, and absolute truth. Today I want to share my encounter of awareness with a new audience.
In the spring of 1982, I had just completed my first year as a mom. I had only begun to be familiar with the sweet echo of “Ma-ma” rolling off my baby’s tongue. I was gathering knowledge. I was still learning the basics. In that moment we were a young family living in Ohio, hundreds of miles from our extended families in Tennessee. The time was holy and fresh; the future before us remained expectant and hopeful.
Our child’s first birthday was on the calendar and that April afternoon his dad delivered a cake with one candle. As I placed our son in his highchair to view his cake, he waved his tiny hands and grinned. I recall the sprinkles of sunlight escaping from the window as surely as I remember the grins on our faces. We sang a duet of “Happy Birthday” to our firstborn and snapped a photo to save the moment.
Then my clever husband placed a bouquet of spring flowers on the table and announced, “These are for you.” I offered my puzzled gaze and responded, “But it’s not my birthday we’re celebrating.”
As my husband began to cut the cake, he offered a quick hug and winked at me. “Just read the card.” he whispered. So I reached for the card. I read it … twice. I smelled the flowers. Then I chased the salty tears from my cheek.
That first year of parenthood I was still learning how to be a mom. Occasionally, I was tentative and unsure. Even with the routine busyness and activity, it could be easy to default to auto pilot. My mind would sometimes be cluttered with doubt and my heart with uncertain reflections. The wise perspective from my loving partner offered encouragement and connection.
Since that experience, Mother’s Day and birthdays have never been the same. My heart is wiser. My eyes open wider. For a woman, the act of being born and the event of giving birth provide eternal connections. Everyone on earth has a birth-day. However, a mother holds the unique gift of possessing the day of her own birth in addition to giving an actual birthed day to someone else.
Decades have passed. My vocabulary now includes: birthing day, birthed day, and birthday. Today I have three amazing grown children and eight grandchildren. This means more birth-days are on my calendar. It’s important to share the story delivered decades ago by a wise daddy. As a direct result of that divine message attached to a bouquet of flowers, my children often respond to my chant of “Happy Birthed Day” with the very enthusiastic phrase: “Happy Birthing Day, Mom!”
This notion of birth as a dual delivery is my late husband’s legacy and a very clever perspective for mothers everywhere. A female is given her own birth; then by becoming a mother, she gives birth to another. Enjoy the story. Embrace the wisdom.
Happy Mother’s Day!
In the spring of 1982, I had just completed my first year as a mom. I had only begun to be familiar with the sweet echo of “Ma-ma” rolling off my baby’s tongue. I was gathering knowledge. I was still learning the basics. In that moment we were a young family living in Ohio, hundreds of miles from our extended families in Tennessee. The time was holy and fresh; the future before us remained expectant and hopeful.
Our child’s first birthday was on the calendar and that April afternoon his dad delivered a cake with one candle. As I placed our son in his highchair to view his cake, he waved his tiny hands and grinned. I recall the sprinkles of sunlight escaping from the window as surely as I remember the grins on our faces. We sang a duet of “Happy Birthday” to our firstborn and snapped a photo to save the moment.
Then my clever husband placed a bouquet of spring flowers on the table and announced, “These are for you.” I offered my puzzled gaze and responded, “But it’s not my birthday we’re celebrating.”
As my husband began to cut the cake, he offered a quick hug and winked at me. “Just read the card.” he whispered. So I reached for the card. I read it … twice. I smelled the flowers. Then I chased the salty tears from my cheek.
That first year of parenthood I was still learning how to be a mom. Occasionally, I was tentative and unsure. Even with the routine busyness and activity, it could be easy to default to auto pilot. My mind would sometimes be cluttered with doubt and my heart with uncertain reflections. The wise perspective from my loving partner offered encouragement and connection.
Since that experience, Mother’s Day and birthdays have never been the same. My heart is wiser. My eyes open wider. For a woman, the act of being born and the event of giving birth provide eternal connections. Everyone on earth has a birth-day. However, a mother holds the unique gift of possessing the day of her own birth in addition to giving an actual birthed day to someone else.
Decades have passed. My vocabulary now includes: birthing day, birthed day, and birthday. Today I have three amazing grown children and eight grandchildren. This means more birth-days are on my calendar. It’s important to share the story delivered decades ago by a wise daddy. As a direct result of that divine message attached to a bouquet of flowers, my children often respond to my chant of “Happy Birthed Day” with the very enthusiastic phrase: “Happy Birthing Day, Mom!”
This notion of birth as a dual delivery is my late husband’s legacy and a very clever perspective for mothers everywhere. A female is given her own birth; then by becoming a mother, she gives birth to another. Enjoy the story. Embrace the wisdom.
Happy Mother’s Day!
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