(With today being Mother’s Day, I felt it appropriate to skip this week’s edition of “Post Traumatic Sunday” and, instead, post a different kind of flashback to say Thank You to all the mothers who sacrifice so much each day, many of whom still have their own kind of flashbacks whenever they hear the words “breast pump”…)
For many of you, Mother’s Day means sending a flowery card that says all the wonderful things you’d say if only you had a thesaurus and someone from Hallmark breathing down your neck. The truth is, the meaning of Mother’s Day has been lost over the years thanks to stupid greeting cards filled with heartfelt phrases like:
If your love was an ocean, you would’ve drowned me as a child.
When I think of love, I think of you. Because of this, you have no grandchildren.
With every smile, I remember a special moment that will never ever be forgotten — Happy belated Mother’s Day!
The true meaning of Mother’s Day, as any mother will tell you, has absolutely nothing to do with flowery cards or fond memories — and everything to do with sacrifice. That’s right. You want to let Mom know you really care? Forget about comparing her to “a beautiful rose laden with thorns of caring,” and remember all the stuff she endured for you even before you HAD a memory. If you’re not sure where to begin, I have two words for you: Breast Pump.
And remember that breast pumping came after nine months of losing control over most of her bodily functions, including — but not limited to — food cravings. These cravings came as a direct result of YOUR needs inside the womb, even though, in many cases, those needs could gag a contestant on Dumpster Diver.
But she did it anyway, in spite of the fact that as you were developing and shaping, so was she: Developing swollen feet the size of couch cushions, and taking the shape of a giant Weeble capable of destroying Tokyo. Keep in mind that during this process, she was still merrily preparing for your arrival by hanging borders, assembling mobiles, making trips to the doctor, all while visiting the bathroom once every three minutes.
Then finally, to show your appreciation upon arriving into the world, you treat her to an episiotomy.
Chances are, you won’t find any of this in a greeting card. Mainly because there are very few phrases that rhyme with “episiotomy.” Although “The things you taught-a me since your episiotomy” has potential.
That’s why I’m mentioning it here, so that hopefully, someone, somewhere, will read this and offer me a job at Hallmark.
Okay, that’s only part of the reason.
The main reason is to say “Thank You” to all you wonderful mothers out there, especially those who are celebrating their very first Mother’s Day this year.
You know who you are.
And if you don’t, try turning down that breast pump a notch or two.