Blaise's other moms

It's Mothers Day. This is one of those holidays I can never remember (Sorry, Mom!) and one I never intended to encourage my own children to celebrate. I only know it is Mothers Day because other people keep wishing me a happy one and because the nurses are trying to coach the two-year-old across the hall to say "Happy Mothers Day" when his mom gets here.

The mantra among the nurses here, from the very start, was "You're her mom. You know her best and she knows you." I never thought that point was up for discussion, but Blaise has an army of secondary moms. Her surgeon calls them her babysitters, but I never engaged with kids I babysat the way the nurses engage with Blaise. I would think that the job would be easier if they were detached; no one wants to draw blood from someone they care about. Instead, they open their hearts to their long-term patients and love them like their own while still respecting my status as Mom. Happy Mothers Day, Blaise's other moms! Thank you for everything you do for her every day.

And to all moms: those with perfectly healthy kids, those who know their children's bilirubin levels and bowel lengths, those whose kids are fighting for their lives and those who have lost children. Happy Mothers Day!