Last year on Mother's Day I landed in Moscow amidst flower wreaths and fireworks. The Russians were celebrating Victory Day, commemorating their triumph over the Nazis in World War Two. The streets were crowded with celebrations, strung with lights and draped in banners declaring VICTORY!
Last Mother's Day I was in the home stretch of a very long, winding, rocky (and scenic) road to becoming a mom. On this road I walked through tears, joys, lessons, roller coasters, volcanoes, physical pain and the kind of all over hurt that can only be a soul aching.
Last Mother's Day, I checked into a hotel with toys and baby food but no baby.
Last Mother's Day I knew that in less than 48 hours we would visit the baby home one last time, this time, there would be no woman in a white coat to come and take him away. This time, we would, finally, walk out with Andre in our arms. It would be our last "visit" to Andre and our first day as a family.
Now, I wake up every morning and rush to the kitchen where Danny is feeding him breakfast. I kiss his neck and cheeks until he giggles and pushes me away. I point out every truck and bus on the road so much so that I continue to do this even when Andre is not in the car with me. I take a deep breath and count to ten when he tries to hit the dog for the thousandth time after I have told him no. I read him book after book after book, doing funny voices and jiggling where the text calls for it. I hide all permanent markers and lipsticks. I melt when he flings his arms around my neck for a hug.
Here's to not knowing what the next year will bring. Happy Mother's Day!