Mother's Day ... after divorce

{note: I'm publishing this a little early (Mother's Day is May 11) for all those divorced moms who are already dreading the holiday ... perhaps this will help the anticipation} 

Hello out there, Gather members, and a very happy Mother's Day to you all. (Did you call your momma yet? Do it now. It's OK, we'll wait. Go and call her. Done? How is she doing?)

I work as an editor for Happen, a magazine about dating and finding love, and around our office, we hear all about the subject of dating after divorce. Picking up the pieces and moving on from a marriage that's over is hard. But sometimes, on certain special days, it's even harder.

That's why we asked Sara Susannah Katz - one of our favorite writers, author of the wildly popular "Single in the Suburbs" series, and an all-around swell lady - to pen a little something about the special joys and sorrows of facing Mother's Day alone.

Here's to you, Moms everywhere.

Mother's Day... after divorce
written by Sara Susannah Katz

In our family it was widely known, but never discussed, that my ex, Craig, was the real force behind all my Mother's Day celebrations. It was Craig who reminded my forgetful son to create a homemade card, give me a hug, and tell me "Happy Mother's Day." It was Craig who nudged the kids to make me breakfast in bed and present a bouquet of red roses. And there were the jittery home movies, with Craig invariably muttering in the background, "Does this red light mean it's recording?"

Mother's Day wasn't just for me and the kids I produced, but for the man who helped me produce them. Like every other holiday we'd marked together, Mother's Day was ultimately a family celebration. I wasn't just Mother. I was Motherandwife. All one word. The two roles were inextricably linked. I couldn't imagine celebrating Mother's Day without Craig.

But then there was the Mother's Day that came exactly two months after Craig moved out of the house we'd shared for 11 years and into his small, sunny condo on the other side of town. We both knew that divorce was the right decision after we'd struggled valiantly to save a marriage that stopped producing even the smallest measure of joy for either of us. Craig immediately threw himself into dating, as you'd expect of a highly-eligible man who hadn't been single for a quarter of a century. All the women who'd harbored crushes on Craig when he was still a married man were now calling him and emailing. Whenever I saw him, he looked exhausted, excited, and somewhat bewildered by his apparently irresistible sex appeal.

Clearly, he was too busy to bother with Mother's Day. Besides, we were getting a divorce. He owed me nothing. I knew that Mother's Day would never be the same. What I hadn't counted on, however, was just how sweet it could be.

My son didn't have to be reminded to give me a hug; without Craig to remind him, he still managed to remember on his own. My daughter made me breakfast in bed. There was no bouquet of red roses, but there were lots of kisses, a bright hand-painted banner, and a giftwrapped bottle of my favorite coconut lotion from the Body Shop.

There was also true serenity in my home. Craig had been so moody and confrontational; we were either bickering or isolated in separate rooms, engaged in our Cold War. The tension infected everything, especially the kids-it was impossible for us to gather in the same room for more than 15 minutes without fighting. But now, everything felt lighter, happier. I didn't have to worry about Craig complaining that the house was a mess. I didn't have to consult with him on where we'd go for dinner. To me, Craig's brooding had always hovered like a thick layer of smog, blocking the sun. Now, I felt only warmth and light.

Our family had been reconfigured, but we were still a family and I had a chance to manage the family my way. I just needed a little time to figure out what my way was. Since I tend to be more relaxed and lighthearted, I suspected that my way - whatever it was - would be a welcome change.

As my kids pampered me throughout the day, I also realized that I'd get the chance to enjoy them in ways I hadn't before-this day and every day in the future. I decided that we'd take a cruise over winter break, something Craig had always been unwilling to do. We could take a road trip out West. Or just hang around our messy house and watch movies. The choice, finally, was all mine to make.

When I checked my email one last time before collapsing into bed, there was a message from my ex-husband. "You are an amazing mother," he wrote. "The kids are lucky to have you." The marriage may be over, Craig continued, but we will always be parents together, and it's the love for our children that keeps us connected.

I am learning, gradually, that I do not need a husband to have a spectacular Mother's Day. This is, in fact, one of several similar lessons I've learned since Craig and I divorced. I now know that I can kill big bugs when called upon (vacuum cleaner hoses come in handy). I can support myself with a good job. I can even replace the light fixture in my dining room - even Craig never did that. Holidays are different now, but they are no less special. And while I may not be a wife, I will always be a mother, and that's a role I cherish more and more with every passing Mother's Day.

Sara Susannah Katz is a writer in the Midwest. Her novel Wife Living Dangerously was recently published by Time Warner. She also writes the column "Single in the Suburbs."

If you liked this article and would like to read more like it for free, visit Happen magazine. After all, love never came with instructions. All readers are welcome to join our Gather group as well!