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Sitting in church that Mother's Day morning, my children fidgeted as I dreamed of the beautiful red carnation - the once illusive symbol of motherhood - that would be mine at the end of liturgy. I was now entitled to it, and I strolled proudly up the center aisle of the church in my brand new Mother's Day attire to claim my prize. My children, who always clung to me and would not risk letting me out of their sight for a moment, followed me. And at the front of the church, as all of us received blessed flowers from the priests, I realized that it was not my day after all. I was over looking something very important. Following the church service, my husband took us to a Mother's Day brunch. My children misbe haved. They picked at their food, whined, squirmed, and were quite disagreeable. They could have care less about this brunch, let alone this day. I tried to make the most of the situation, but in the end, it was a day no one enjoyed - least of all me. My first Mother's Day was nothing like what I had imagined it would be, and perhaps it was unrealistic and even a little selfish of me to have had such high expectations. My children and I had openly discussed their birthparents, even when communication had been quite a challenge. When they first became our children, their birthmother was "druha mama" - the other mother - and I understood them well enough to know that they missed her and loved her. And yet, on this Mother's Day, I had neglected to acknowledge the mothers who were so conspicuously absent. And while my inten tions were good and my heart was filled with an abun dance of love for my new children and a great joy at having become their mother, I had forgotten some thing. I had viewed the day as something due me - a birthright coveted at the expense of everything else. My perspective on Mother's Day has changed from what it was that first idealistic year. In truth, it is still evolving. And as difficult as it has been for me to deal with such disappointments, I have come to under stand that my children were grieving on this day of celebration, grieving for the loss of all things familiar - their birthparents, birth country, their caregivers, and their friends. Considering this, it is not surprising that they were less than enthusiastic about celebrating a day called Mother's Day, with someone who was, in so many ways, a stranger. Because of this strangeness, every one of us Шарру ^Mother's Day viewed that first Mother's Day from a different per spective and, unfortunately, our expectations based on those viewpoints did not mesh. After two years to gether, we are still strangers in many ways. Some days my children are not even sure if they like me all that much. They have no control over anything that has happened to them in their short lives, and now they face yet another Mother's Day with me, without ever having said goodbye to their birthmothers. How brave these little souls must be to face their grief amid the expectations of this special day. This year will mark my fourth Mother's Day. It looms somewhat ominously, like a spring storm. There is no telling how much rain we will get. Now that my children are in school, Mother's Day is not just one simple day - it is more like an entire season. At school, there will be events honoring all mothers; my children are excited to be involved in doing something special for me, yet the world they live in has no won derful party planned to remember the mothers who gave them life, a mother they miss and sometimes hate because she is not part of their lives. This Mother's Day, I am looking forward to wearing my favorite pin. It is a beautiful gold-colored Winnie-the-Pooh pin, given to me by a dear friend. It says "Mom." When I pin it to my dress, I will smile, because this is who I am now. This year, I am looking forward to celebrating what is most amazing about my motherhood: growing in love and wisdom and building a relationship with my three children in spite of all the obstacles we face. Our brief time together has not al ways been blissful, but it has been in all ways miracu lous. I plan to enjoy this Mother's Day, whatever it may bring, and however stormy it may be. And this year, I will not forget to acknowledge the women who brought them into this world. I do not know how Mother's Day 2003 will turn out, but I am certain that it will begin very early in the morning. There will be many wet, doggie-breath kisses from the Golden Retrievers pouncing on me until they are certain I am awake. If I am lucky, there will be breakfast, or least coffee, in bed. From my children, there are sure to be smiles, hugs and kisses, beautiful handmade greeting cards, school projects, and many other surprises. Sitting here tonight, reflect ing on past Mother's Days and looking forward to new ones, I can't complain. “НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ТРАВЕНЬ 2003 19
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