Last year, the dawning sun on Mother’s Day was not a happy one for me. As a matter of fact, I was feeling very, very sorry for myself. I’d spent the night on a hotel room couch while my boys sprawled out on each of the queen beds. It was the last day of a corporate retreat and I’d been feeling very pressured to manage my two rowdy boys around my coworkers and boss (and their families). I’d put undue pressure on myself, they are good kids and they didn’t do anything completely outrageous…at least within ear shot of my boss and his family.

But, I was alone. I was tired. I didn’t feel like anyone was especially celebrating me as a Mother. It was supposed to be my day where I could relax and soak in the adoration of my children, a day the world celebrated me being a Mom. Instead, I was facing yet another trying group meal (imagine e a 5 year old and an 8 year old boy at a buffet), a 4 hour drive (again two boys!) and my back had a decided kink to it after spending 4 nights on a rather lumpy couch. Let’s just say my attitude was less than my usual sunny self.

Boys still snoring away, while my coffee was brewing I picked up my phone and went through the usual suspects of my morning newsfeeds and forums. And then, I stumbled across this poem:

Dear Mr. Hallmark, I am writing to you from heaven, and though it must appear

A rather strange idea, I see everything from here.

I just popped in to visit, your stores to find a card

A card of love for my mother,as this day for her is hard.

There must be some mistake I thought, every card you could imagine

Except I could not find a card, from a child who lives in heaven.

She is still a mother too, no matter where I reside

I had to leave, she understands, but oh the tears she’s cried.

I thought that if I wrote you, that you would come to know

That though I live in heaven now, I still love my mother so.

She talks with me, and dreams with me; we still share laughter too,

Memories our way of speaking now, would you see what you could do?

My mother carries me in her heart, her tears she hides from sight.

She writes poems to honor me, sometimes far into the night.

She plants flowers in my garden, there my living memory dwells

She writes to other grieving parents, trying to ease their pain as well.

So you see Mr. Hallmark, though I no longer live on earth

I must find a way, to remind her of her wondrous worth.

She needs to be honored, and remembered too

Just as the children of earth will do.

Thank you Mr. Hallmark, I know you’ll do your best

I have done all I can do; to you I’ll leave the rest.

Find a way to tell her, how much she means to me

Until I can do it for myself, when she joins me in eternity.

Paige and Landon

The poem was signed: Rest in Peace Landon Michael and Paige Neichole. Born sleeping February 26, 2006. Mommy loves you.

Then I cried, much as I am crying now just reading it again. And then I went over to my boys, woke them with fierce hugs, threw open the curtains and let the morning sunshine come streaming through the sliding glass doors. I hugged them again and kissed their chubby little cheeks, felt their small hands around the back of my neck and cried some more. I still remember the very first time my older son truly hugged me. Tiny hands clasping around my neck and face nuzzled into mine.

That was the moment that I decided Mother’s Day wasn’t about me at all. It was a day to celebrate the gift that is my children. A day to celebrate that I am lucky enough to be mom to these beautiful, delightful little beings. I’m honored to have their love.

Sure, the day was filled with ups and downs. We still had a buffet breakfast and 4 hour car ride ahead of us but I knew that I was fortunate to have the day with them – no matter how trying the circumstances.

I write this post a few days before Mother’s Day.

First, I want to honor the women out there who have lost their children. I cannot begin to know their loss, but my heart hurts for them. The anonymous redditor that posted the poem has since closed the account, but I will think about her every Mother’s Day I celebrate. In her loss, she’s given me the most important Mother’s Day gift I’ll ever receive.

Second, my boys were so excited for the gifts they have made for me they simply could not wait another second to present them to me.

From Big Bit, a cake he decorated:

From Little Bit, it is a drawing of me and two of our cats, it reads “My mother’s name is Stefneye (Stephanie). My mother is 29 years old. My mother’s favorite food is soop (soup). My mother likes to bey wif pasha (be with Pasha-the cat).: