Roundtable #38: An Open Letter to Anna Jarvis

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It’s designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community.
Click here to see how others have addressed the prompt below.

Mother’s Day is coming soon in many countries, and the intersection of adoption and that holiday can stir up a lot of different emotions. Write to someone else in the adoption constellation (someone specific or a general group). What do you want to say to them on Mother’s Day?

Dear Ms. Jarvis,

From what I've read, you had the best of intentions when you began your campaign to make Mother's Day a nationally recognized holiday. I also understand that you too became disappointed in what the holiday had become by the 1920s, only shortly after you had reached your goal. For me, this holiday has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember.

As a child and teenager - disconnected from my biological mother and victimized by my step-mother - I spent countless hours agonizing over Mother's Day cards. With my biological mother, none of the cards described my relationship with her. In fact, reading through them only made me realize what I was missing -- someone who was always there for me, someone who loved me unconditionally, someone who always saw the best in me.

With my step-mother, early on I was punished after being told that the card I got for her was "cold." Apparently, she wanted mushy - a card that somehow proved that I loved and appreciated her. So the process of choosing Mother's Day cards each year was something I came to despise. And the fact that my birthday always falls on or around Mother's Day served to take joy away from that holiday, too.

Fast forward to my early 30s, when my husband and I received a diagnosis of infertility and started pursuing IVF treatment. While most of my friends were at Mother's Day brunch with their adorable children, I was secretly injecting myself with hormones and feeling like a complete failure. I remember calling into my office a few days before Mother's Day, and the receptionist said to me (in a very chipper voice - she had no idea what I was going through): "Too bad you won't have anything to celebrate on Sunday. You need to start pumping out some kids!" It hurt. A lot.

Eventually, I did go on to have two children -- a son through IVF, and a daughter through open domestic adoption. My daughter Lily was also born in early May, and our adoption was closed for the first week of her life. I remember my first Mother's Day with Lily. I didn't know anything about Fiona, Lily's first mother, except for her first name. And that first Mother's Day, she was all I could think about - the hole in her heart, the yearning she must be feeling to hold her baby in her arms. My gain was her loss, and I hated the fact that I had no way to reach out to her. Of course, things changed shortly after that, and for the last two Mother's Days, we have reached out to each other and wished each other a Happy Mother's Day. But the truth is, I think we'd both be much happier if the pressure to celebrate our motherhood wasn't there.

In a very slightly altered reality, I would be childless. And while I feel incredibly lucky to be the mother to two amazing children, I don't want or need a special day to be thanked for doing something that I was dying to do for so many years. I am privileged to have this very special role. I am thankful for it every single day.

There's an irony in the fact that Mother's Day, my birthday, and Lily's birthday all fall within seven days of each other. Ms. Jarvis, I know you can't really help with the effort, but any tips on how to start a campaign to end Mother's Day?