When Mother's Day is about what you can't do

My first Mother's Day holding Erin (L) and Emily.

I've been sick for the past ten days. Other than the weeks I spent recovering from my C-section and the concussion, this is the sickest I've been since I became a mother. I've almost completely lost my voice at this point - ironic, since I'm actually starting to feel better! - and I've been at the mercy of all the help family and friends could offer this week. It's taken all my energy to go to work each morning, and chores have been pretty much out of the question. Thankfully, the girls have been sick too, so they have been just fine with lots of Netflix and minimal mess-making for the most part.

Except for this mess - Emily and Erin delight in emptying this bookshelf several times a day. 

I got to thinking this morning about how Mother's Day seems to be about all that moms can do - all the sacrifices necessary for raising your children, all the meals cooked and laundry wash-dry-folded, the long nights, the stories read and tears wiped and squabbles refereed. But what about when moms can't? We get sick, too. Does that make us any less as mothers? Do we measure up solely by the number of things checked off a giant, universal to-do list of parenting?

I've gotten my answer to this question this week. Regardless of how active I am, how much I'm coughing, or the fact that my voice is a hoarse shadow of its former self - my girls still love me. They still snuggle with Mommy and want to show me what they're doing. They still want hugs and kisses. They don't seem to mind that they've eaten mini bagels, cheese, bananas and baby food for almost every meal this week.

The help I've had has been nothing short of miraculous, from my mother coming over and watching the girls on an hour's notice so I could go to the doctor one afternoon to my in-laws taking the girls for Friday evening so I could rest. Laundry and chores got done by people other than me. When my husband finally had a day off this week, he let me sleep all afternoon and rest on the couch in the evening while he made frozen pizza for dinner and gave Emily and Erin a bath. It was wonderful to know that things were being taken care of, and that my girls still loved me, just for being Mommy.

So to all you mothers out there, no matter what your state of motherhood - know that you measure up. Know that you are enough. Know that you matter, simply because you love your children. You may not have ever held them. You may not have birthed them. You may not ever get to do either of those things. You may never know the fearful, wonderful days of parenting a newborn. But whether you are a physical, spiritual, or adoptive mother doesn't matter. Loving the children in your life makes you a mother. Happy Mother's Day, and may God bless you and your children always.

Me at around 1 1/2, at the beach with my mom.