Not being a mother, I’m not usually part of the cool crowd on Mother’s Day weekend, even while celebrating my mother and other admirable women. Some Mother’s Day weekends are more memorable than others. For instance, the year hubby distracted me from our fertility treatments by driving us two hours to the Oregon Coast for a delicious seafood pizza. The year I burst into tears on my way out the door, ruining carefully chosen makeup and clothes, suddenly realizing I didn’t have the emotional strength to sit through a church service. The year I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and hosted a traditional English tea for four generations of girlfriends. The year my niece helped us adopt a puppy.
This Mother’s Day weekend, my family lost a baby. Born early by emergency Cesarian section. Held by her mother for a few precious minutes. Relinquished with ongoing tears and the hope for something better, someday. With extraordinary fortitude, the grieving young mother says she finally has a hands-down answer to the popular get-to-know-you question: If you could spend an hour with anyone, who would you choose?
And she smiled, somehow, while saying it.
So this Mother’s Day morning, I made it through a church service, then arrived home completely drained. Wanted nothing more than to wash my face, pull on comfy clothes, sit in the sunshine, and maybe talk to my dog.
Stepping out to the deck, I spotted an orca! My first whale sighting of the season! A single male, with a gorgeous dorsal fin, rhythmically emerging for powerful breaths. Pleasure boaters gathered. The ferry arriving at Anacortes slowed (like Lucy Jo slows approaching Wren Island). Everyone offered space to enjoy a refreshing moment. Is it any wonder I like adding orcas to poignant moments in Wren Island stories?
A few days later, hubby and I joined friends for dinner, where much of the conversation centered on one friend’s difficulty finding a nice young woman to share his life with. The time, energy, and money this friend has poured into his education paid off. Now he’s successful, well-spoken, intelligent, and kind. (My description. He’s too modest to describe himself that way.) But at forty years old, he’s afraid he’s missed the boat.
As two couples married for a combined total of nearly sixty years, we probably gave too much advice. (No, he should not dye his beard to look younger.) We brainstormed ideas for meeting nice young women. Practiced gracious ways to escape sticky situations. Eyebrows raised, we pieced apart questionable advice given by others (single guys also not yet in long-term, meaningful relationships). Tried to translate what a woman’s cryptic words might really mean.
As a wife, I loved reliving a few of the young-love moments hubby and I have shared. As a friend, I ached for people I care about to experience belonging and fulfillment. As a fiction writer, I tucked away tidbits for spinning stories.
Where is all this going?
Susan Cain’s book Bittersweet explores how the more deeply we grieve, the greater our joy. The darker the night, the lighter the morning. The more bitter the pain, the sweeter the relief. And I guess right now I’m in a season of feeling those extremes. My first novel is being published soon. A lifelong dream being achieved! How can this not forever alter my course?
Yet so much of life will continue as it always has—for me and for people around me. The mundane will occasionally be punctuated by the unexpected—bitter or sweet. The everyday will give way to publication day, then resume its meandering routine. Average and familiar will blur together comfortably—until the next dark night is followed by a lighter-than-usual morning.
So I’m wondering … Is there something in your life that feels monumental? A relationship, achievement, loss, celebration? Are you being brave about one big thing while breezing through everything else?
I hope you’ll send me a message and let me know.
Hear more of my thoughts in this related Instagram reel.
(This post is adapted from a note I wrote Wren Islanders in the spring of 2025. If you’d like to be the first to read fun stuff like this, subscribe to receive updates.)
