The Miracle of (our) Mother's Day

Kily and "Jane"

Kily and "Hector"

Kily and her little Chance

Kily, "Hector", and Krystal hunting Easter Eggs

What a difference a year makes. Last year on Mother’s Day, Krystal was in the hospital—after waking up a few days earlier paralyzed by a spinal cord injury of unknown etiology. She couldn’t walk, bathe, or feed herself without the help of someone holding, grasping, or steadying her uncooperative body into doing the things that up until a few days earlier we had taken for granted. That mother’s day came and went without the usual, if not ordinary observation of the extraordinary ways Krystal was mothering not just our own child, but also the two foster children who had come into our lives.

This mother’s day however, was different, if not outright miraculous. Yesterday was spent simply, but enthusiastically enjoying the simplest of pleasures. We went to the mall and walked around enjoying the best shops, eateries, and people that suburban America has to offer. To help Krystal celebrate her special day, we took her on a no limit shopping spree—which for those of you who know Krystal, know this was a safe and frugal proposition. She limited herself to the latest fashions of JC Penny, and kept it all under $100. Just as we were about to leave, the kids took Krystal to her surprise appointment at Gigi Spa, where she had a chance to take a break from her various responsibilities as a mother. While I took the kids and made them disappear, she was well cared for and received a leg message, pedicure, and other unmanly things that I don’t even want to pretend to understand. Unlike last year however, Krystal was able to walk under her own power, feed herself (though she still got food on her face, which, it should be noted, is completely normal for her : ), and was pampered by others for reasons other than her not being able to physically care for herself. This morning, the kids made her breakfast in bed—waffles, milk, and enough syrup to wash it all down. Apparently breakfast in bed takes on a whole new meaning when it’s your own bed rather than a hospital bed.

In many ways, I cannot help but think that Krystal’s miraculous recovery is connected, if not absolutely bound to her sacred role as a mother. In the past year, she has been a mother not just to our own children, but has also taken the responsibility of being a mother to the motherless. As we have been foster parents, I have come to truly appreciate the sacredness of the title of Mother, as Krystal has become the only mother our foster children have ever had—children who come with their own unique set of joys, and challenges. As I have seen the humility and compassion that she, and the various mothers, foster mothers, and adoptive mothers that I work with on a daily basis have towards the children in their care, I have come to better understand the extent of the joys, and head-scratching challenges of motherhood. Through the course of my work in the field of child abuse, I have seen the good and the bad, the miraculous and the despicable. I have seen “mothers” commit some of the most inhumane acts towards their children (with the pictures to prove it), as well as the unspoken heroines who voluntarily step in and become what biology and evolution failed to give the broken children who at times end up in foster care; a loving selfless soul to call Mother.

To all the mothers out there who have stepped up, stepped in, and done what you do best so well, thank you. To my darling wife who selflessly gives despite the life changing challenges that have come her way, I, and our children, and the children who’ve called you mother thank you. We love you. Happy Mother’s Day.

-Jose