Mother’s Day 2007 was one of those weird, do-we-celebrate-or-don’t-we? days. I was due with Kostyn about two weeks later, so not technically a mom in the sense that I had no baby in my arms. But with a bulging belly and many a sleepless, prayerful night behind me, I already felt like a mom. I knew I was one, yet that Sunday morning when our pastor asked for all the moms in the sanctuary to stand and be recognized, I kept my seat. Chris glanced at me, but I shook my head. “I’m not yet” I whispered.

I still feel sad when I think about such sheepish denial of something my heart told me was already true. The fact is, I knew I was a mom but I was worried the other moms around me wouldn’t think I was mom enough.

It starts that early for us moms.

The following year when I stood up in church and accepted my pink carnation with the other mothers, young and old, it felt like an initiation into a private club. I was proud and happy and blushing, finally in, legitimately, with my almost-1-year-old in my arms as wiggly proof.

Today, four years and another son later, as I stood at the front of a different sanctuary in a different state being recognized as a mom and volunteer in our church’s nursery, it felt like more than being part of a club. It felt like being part of a force.  There we were, lined up across the front of the church representing multiple generations and backgrounds and parenting styles. Some who became mothers barely out of high school; others who started a family much later in life. Moms who’d lost children, and moms who had grandchildren. Moms who spank, or don’t; homeschool, or don’t; work, or don’t; breastfeed, or don’t. The list of differences between us is endless, and pointless, overridden by one unifying similarity – motherhood.

For the last three years my blog on this day has been dedicated to my own mother, a loving thank-you note for all the things she did for me, acts large and small I’d realized that year as caring for my own kids gives me a deepening perspective on her role in my life. But on Friday she left a voicemail message that shifted my focus, and made me smile. “I know you usually write something for me for Mother’s Day, and I love it,” she said. “But I think there’s another mother in your life that maybe deserves to be recognized too. I just wanted to say that maybe this year you could write something about her? Anyway, just a thought. I love you.”

It’s just like a mom, isn’t it, to put someone else first. She was referring to my amazing mother-in-law – through the blessings of marriage I now have two mothers, not just one. But her message made me think of motherhood on an even grander scale. I don’t just have two moms in my life; I have dozens. Some are sisters, some are friends, some I know only through the wonders of the Web. I look to them individually to guide me, teach me, support me, commiserate with me and laugh with (sometimes at) me. Together we are a force, changing the lives of our kids with every hug and every limit and every lesson and, in doing so, changing the world.

The more I thought about all the moms who’ve touched my life this year, the more thank-yous I felt compelled to express. So here goes:

Thank you to my mother-in-law, who encourages me, pampers me, recognizes me and most of all listens to me. You mean the world to me.

Thank you to my sisters, sisters-in-law and aunts, all mothers who continually show me a new perspective on parenting, and love my kids like their own.

Thank you to the friends I’ve had since way before motherhood, the ones I’ve had the privilege of seeing become mothers themselves, which has given us a whole new dimension to our friendships. When our kids play together, my heart melts.

Thank you to the mom friends I have who I’ve never met face to face but who know more about me – not to mention the eating, sleeping and pooping habits of my kids — than most people I see regularly. (You should all be thankful for them.)

Thank you to the mom in Walmart who stopped alongside my cart one day last winter, as my boys were bickering and teasing and whining, to say, “It’s OK to hate this part now; just know the whole thing goes so fast that someday you’ll actually wish to go back to a moment like this. Hang in there.” I’ve drawn strength from your words more than once.

Thank you to the moms at my church who are showing my kids God’s love for them through our community of faith.

Thank you to the mom who reached out anonymously a couple months ago to help our family when she knew we were struggling.

Thank you to the neighbor mom who graciously switched around her family’s entire schedule for the following night to accommodate my last-minute request to babysit so I could catch a rock concert two hours away.

Thank you to the moms at preschool who either didn’t flinch or offered words of empathy while watching me haul my tantruming 2-year-old over my shoulder as he kicked and screamed and tried to escape after dropping off his brother. All three times.

Thank you to mom bloggers like Rebecca Woolf, who makes me want to be a better writer and a more stylish, creative, successful or at the very least more laid-back mom.

Thank you to moms who are trying to make a difference not just in their child’s life but in the life of all children.

Thank you to all my mom friends who rallied in prayer for a fellow mom none of us had ever met but who was battling for her life. She is winning, and her kids are winning, in part because of you.

Thank you to the mom who offered to buy me a hot cup of coffee that frigid December morning when I stood alone outside ringing the Salvation Army bell. I turned down your kindness, but it warmed my heart anyway.

Thank you to the moms of adopted kids, especially my friend Stacey, who just returned from Moscow with the court’s approval for her and her husband to adopt a very lucky little boy. Your family’s love story is an example for us all.

Thank you to my friends who are stepmoms for opening their hearts to invest in the lives and futures of children they didn’t bear but love unconditionally nonetheless.

Thank you to my newly single mom friends who are doing what’s excruciatingly difficult now to make their children’s lives easier in the long run.

Thank you to all the moms in my life who pray when I ask for prayers, encourage when I need support, forgive me when I screw up, and “like” every single kid-related status update, blog post and photo I share. You are gold, and I am rich for knowing you.

Finally, thanks, Mom, for showing me yet again how selflessness pays dividends in ways you can’t imagine. As Kostyn would say, “I love you 100!”