A few years ago, I was scrolling through my social media feed and I stumbled across an unexpected treat. A friend of mine had attended Pride. But not just her; her mother had attended with her.
I remember thinking, “Wow. That mom’s a hero. My mother would never do that.”
Now, I don’t want to dismiss the heroism that comes with changing diapers, feeding littles, and coordinating soccer games.
As mothers, we are constantly called to be heroes. Motherhood is heroism incarnate, but we don’t get the credit. Sometimes though, there’s a space where mother after mother fails. And suddenly, doing the normal thing, the mundane thing, the obvious thing – celebrating your child’s identity – suddenly makes you exceptional. Suddenly that makes you a hero who sticks out.
Not because it’s more heroic than going to (God-I-hate-this-sport) baseball games. But because no other moms came. It was an easy no-brainer, but you’re still the exception to the rule.
I attended my first Pride in the spring of 2019. It was one of the first times in my entire life I was freely myself.
My mom didn’t come.
But another mom did.
If you don’t know who Sarah Cunningham is, she’s the founder of Free Mom Hugs. Her story starts in that familiar rut of failure and rejection. But, she didn’t stay there. (And she didn’t wait for her baby to commit suicide before changing her mind either).
She became the Mom who went to Pride.
So if your babies are still babies or fledgling adults or moms of their own…if you bore them or adopted them…if you hate baseball but love them…be the Mom who went to Pride.
I was lucky.
I got one of those free mom hugs.
For half a minute, I had a mom.
I wish I’d had the real thing.
***My mom passed away after I submitted this post, but shortly before it was published. I’ve debated whether it should be published at all.
I am here, mourning the life of my mom, realizing that I’ve been mourning this loss since long before she was physically gone, and drowning in the knowledge that she will never be there.
We don’t have a chance to be anything other than what we were.
So please, I beg you. Be a mom goes to Pride.
I am alone, and I am empty.