My mother used to love to tell the story of the time when I was in kindergarten and she picked me up from school one day. I walked out of the school building sobbing uncontrollably. She tried to discern why I was so upset and when we got inside the car, she turned to me and asked why I was crying. I held out a sheet of paper I had in my hand, and while still sobbing said, “I got a sad face”. My mother says she could barely contain her laughter but knew I was seriously upset that I didn’t have a good day. I always did well in school – even at such a young age, so receiving a sad face was devastating to me. We sat in the car and talked, my mother calmly easing my hurt and taking the time to explain all the ways I would do better the following day. I still remember that day – not the specifics of what she said. But I remember crying due to the sad face on my paper and I remember feeling so much better after our talk. My type-A personality about school continued. During my senior year in high school, my mother took me to the doctor due to stomach issues I was having. It seems that I was so stressed about my grades and college that I was on the verge of having an ulcer. I remember my mother’s face when the doctor told us the news – it was a complete shock. When we got home, my mother sat me down and we had a long, serious conversation about stress, life, and being able to let things go. She was always good at giving advice. She had a way of being rational and funny at the same time. In this incident, I knew she was serious but also trying to make light of the situation so as not to scare me. And I took her advice to heart. To this day, when I am feeling overwhelmed, I repeat her words in my head and I immediately feel better.
I love Mother’s Day. Although my mother is no longer alive, I spend the weekend remembering her and celebrating all of the other wonderful mothers I know. I didn’t always. The first few years after my mother died, Mother’s Day was difficult to get through. So many reminders of what I had lost. But one year, I decided to change my perspective and instead of focusing on what I no longer had, I would focus on the precious gift I was given for 40 years of my life. Because that’s what mothers do – they give. Over and over and over…
I’ve been told that motherhood is the scariest and most fulfilling experience anyone could ever have. I’ve been told that it literally feels as if you are carrying your heart outside your body. When I first heard that years ago, I would think why would anyone want to go through that? The visual of my heart being outside my body, therefore making it much easier to hurt was unfathomable to me. However, over the years I’ve come to realize that is the beauty of motherhood. When your heart is on the outside for everyone to see, although it may be easier to hurt, it is also out in the open, communicating to all your love on display. In my opinion, the unconditional love of a mother is spiritual, exhibiting a selfless sacrifice that is natural and all-encompassing.
My mother was my first confidant. She was my go-to person. When I hurt physically or emotionally, when I was sad, when I had good news to share, when I succeeded, and when I failed – she was the first person I sought out. She sparked my need to dream and encouraged me to take risks, knowing they may lead to pain and heartache. Because that is the skill of a mother – the ability to take care of our basic needs while at the same time nurturing our independence and giving us wings to fly. But we always find our way back. The same way my mother calmly talked me off the ledge when I was in kindergarten and a senior in high school, she did it one hundred more times (at least) when I was an adult.
I’ve been around enough mothers to know that motherhood is not the same for everyone. And not everyone was blessed with a mother who provided that unconditional love. But I would like to think that where there is a lack, God somehow makes up for it by placing other people in our lives. About a year before my mother’s death, I met a woman through work who was quite a bit older than me. We instantly hit it off and became great friends. After my mother died, she became a sort of surrogate for my maternal needs. When I needed encouragement, a confidant, or someone to share good news or bad news, she was there. She showed up in my life at a time when I needed someone just like her the most. She was different than my other friends and helped fill an emptiness by just being herself.
The older I have become, the more I recognize the sacrifice mothers make for their children every day. And I am in awe of it. Through my work, I have met mothers who remind me of what it must have been like for my own mother when she was younger – a single parent, with multiple, young children, working long hours, and tired. So very tired. And yet, even through their exhaustion, they are present for their children, giving them the love and support they need. I salute them. And all mothers, because even if you have the help of a spouse, the work of a mother is still draining. All of my friends who are parents work outside of the home and trying to maintain a work-life balance is no joke.
My wish for all mothers during this weekend that celebrate you is that you give yourself grace. Know that you were specially made to mother and regardless of what you may think, you are doing a great job and your children will be fine. Know that your children will remember the smallest details of time spent with you, the seemingly meaningless conversations, the weight of your arms as you hugged them, and the tone in your voice as you told them they were loved. And for my mother, who is no longer with us, for the rest of my life, I will continue to search for moments full of you.