My mom and I share a silly joke about how every time she would physically come close to me as a child, she would inadvertently injure me. Poking me in the eye as she leaned down to tuck me into bed, scratching me with her rings as she playfully tickled me or pulling my hair during an attempted tender embrace all seem like normal and consistent memories from my childhood. And yet, despite all the innocent misfires, I still wanted her to comfort me as only a mother's touch can do.
I'm starting to cry as I type this. Oh man, I am such a sap...
The Gift of Loyalty
Growing up with my mother was not always easy, and I'll gladly spare you most of the details, but looking back, my personal take on the hard times can basically be described as a pretty typical mother/daughter relationship with our fair share of drama. I was independent and defiant from early on, full of teenage angst during high school, and moody and miserable for a long time after. She was a working, mostly single parent with two daughters who couldn't operate on more opposite ends of the spectrum if we tried, doing her best to raise us fairly, ALWAYS putting us first, and often unhappy in her own life but struggling to keep it together for us. It was hard for me to see it all back then b/c I was clearly not mature enough to realize how much she sacrificed, and I was frequently blinded from her good intentions by some of the not-so-great aspects of our general family life. Overall, I can honestly say it was normal.
But there was also something not-so-normal about our relationship. It started before I can even remember, and is still there even today, stronger than ever and growing more intense as the years go by. Loyalty.
Between my mother, my sister and me, there exists an undeniably overwhelming sense of loyalty. Our bond cannot be broken. Not by any man, not by any friend, not by any fight, not by any circumstance, not by anything. Not ever. Maybe this closeness developed b/c of the unique challenges we faced together, or maybe it was just something my mother instinctively instilled in us from the day we were born. I'm not really sure, but I can tell you this: it is NOT to be messed with.
We don't always agree. I have grown up to be a much different person, woman and parent than both my mother and my sister. I can't say we always get along either; we've experienced more than enough of the crazies between us with plenty more in our future, I'm sure. But nothing is more powerful than our love for and loyalty to each other, and it always comes back to that. Don't you talk about my mama...And now, I'm a mom too, raising my own child in significantly different circumstances than I was raised, and it is my goal, even with the stability of 2 full time parents who love each other, that I can infuse the loyalty gene into the foundation of my relationship with my son, hopefully resulting in a just as richly blessed bond as the one I have with my mother that will forever be a wonderful, meaningful gift to him as I feel it is to me.
I Want My Mommy
21 months ago I labored in a birthing tub at North Fulton Hospital while my mother quietly timed contractions and my sister tended to the inevitably yucky water. (Now THAT is loyalty, people!) My husband sat anxiously in the hospital bed that was supposed to be mine, excitedly awaiting the birth of his son, but not really being welcomed to help me in my task of birthing, and trying to text updates of our progress to family and friends without disturbing my state of mind by asking any questions. For the most part the hospital staff left me alone, by my own request, except to check the baby with a fetal heartbeat Doppler monitor that could be submerged in the water to reach my belly. At one point we demanded a particular nurse not return at all b/c she was invasive and just plain irritating, speaking too loudly and patronizing me with her unsolicited instructions on how to moan more productively, and threatening to make me get out of the water if I didn't immediately hand over my belly to her monitor. (Um, kinda busy here, having a monster contraction, don't you dare touch me!) I remember her to be a very large woman in stature and quite offensive. At the end of her last intrusion, my mother and sister silently gave each other knowing looks, and my sister briefly left the room. We didn't see that nurse again.
21 months ago I labored in a birthing tub at North Fulton Hospital while my mother quietly timed contractions and my sister tended to the inevitably yucky water. (Now THAT is loyalty, people!) My husband sat anxiously in the hospital bed that was supposed to be mine, excitedly awaiting the birth of his son, but not really being welcomed to help me in my task of birthing, and trying to text updates of our progress to family and friends without disturbing my state of mind by asking any questions. For the most part the hospital staff left me alone, by my own request, except to check the baby with a fetal heartbeat Doppler monitor that could be submerged in the water to reach my belly. At one point we demanded a particular nurse not return at all b/c she was invasive and just plain irritating, speaking too loudly and patronizing me with her unsolicited instructions on how to moan more productively, and threatening to make me get out of the water if I didn't immediately hand over my belly to her monitor. (Um, kinda busy here, having a monster contraction, don't you dare touch me!) I remember her to be a very large woman in stature and quite offensive. At the end of her last intrusion, my mother and sister silently gave each other knowing looks, and my sister briefly left the room. We didn't see that nurse again.
And a little over 6 hours later, things really started movin' and shakin' in that tub, and at last my baby boy was born into the water! The midwife gave him a little nudge in my direction and he "swam" right up to my chest where I held him for just a moment before they decided he looked a tad blue and wanted to check him out. Of course they didn't communicate their thoughts to me, so they rushed to have Brett cut the cord and then whisked my newborn angel off to another area where I could not see him. I shudder at the memory of my panic as I yelled for Brett to go with them and I helplessly watched him follow, knowing he was feeling the same level of terror as I was throughout the longest 2 minutes of our lives.
And I remember my mother, kneeling behind me, stroking my hair, with her soothing voice, her calm tone, whispering in my ear, "He's alright, don't you hear him crying? He's just fine. He's crying now. Everything's okay, honey..."
And then somehow my body mindlessly made it to the bed for the midwife to deliver the placenta and collect the baby's cord blood, and a strange sensation of weightlessness came over me as I became dazed due to a uterine hemorrhage, losing too much blood too quickly. Madness engulfed the room, and I vaguely recall my husband being torn between checking on me and leaving the side of our child despite my explicit instruction not to. My sister was in on the action, advocating from every which way to make sure I was treated properly, and I only remember flashes of her face, flush with worry and concern, but mostly business-like and stoic.
And there again was my mother's voice, through the mayhem and chaos I could hear her, pleading these words I will never forget. "You're my baby and I'm not leaving your side! You're my baby and I'm staying right here with you! Brett's with your baby, but I'm with my baby! I'm not leaving my baby..."
After a whirlwind of unexpected poking and prodding, my mother and I dismissed the nurses and cleaned me up ourselves. Then Brett and I were given some alone time to just be a family with our new baby boy. I wanted to nurse him, but I was just too weak to comfortably cradle him myself, so we mostly just stared in each other's eyes; it felt surreal and my mind was still foggy. Not long after, the nurses returned to take me to the bathroom for the first time. Upon standing I was immediately unsteady and I fainted. I came to disoriented, startled and overwhelmed, my husband's face directly in mine, looking terrified and yet full of relief. My first words were spoken, and bless his poor sweet heart, they were...
"I want my mommy."
Within seconds she was there, and for a moment I think my husband was hurt by my instinctive call for her. There is nothing like a mother's protection, nothing like a mother's touch, nothing like a mother to provide the deepest comfort, the purest compassion and the most gentle understanding. In my confusion and discomfort I wanted my mommy to make it all better.
My mother helped me to feel presentable to all of my guests by brushing my hair and gently caring for me. She shared in the joy of introducing her new grandson to the rest of our family, and then she was gone for the evening as Brett and I settled in at the hospital for Jack's first night. The next day, my mother came back, bringing a few choice items from home that we had requested. She never even mentioned it, but she had spent the entire night cleaning our condo from top to bottom, making it a truly comfortable place to bring home our baby.
A Mother's Heart IS Her Child
I always dreamed of being a mother. I cannot remember a time in my life when I did not feel like motherhood was my true calling. I believe that I could have been anything I wanted to be, but motherhood is not an ambition; but rather it is a gift, a blessing, a privilege and an honor. I believe there are mothers out there who struggle more than others, mothers who maybe should not be mothers and women who would do anything to become mothers. I know that most mothers, including myself are far from perfect, but I feel certain that they have their children's best interests at heart and they do everything with good intentions.
Just like my mom.
My mom is awesome. She is funny and smart and witty and super talented. She is creative and sensitive and compassionate. She is loving and nurturing, and a little nutty too. She has her ups and downs just like everyone else, and to know her the way I do is to know her truly. I can see past our differences and into her heart, a heart of a mother, my mother, and I know now, as a mother myself, that we share something miraculous together in the cycle of life.
My mother has never once given up on me, never once turned her back on me. Even during our most intense struggles, she was still there for me, waiting in the wings, watching from a distance and still loving me while she let me spread my wings and try to fly. I didn't admit it, but I did know it. I felt her presence of course, and I told myself I didn't need her, but really it was all just part of growing up, the denial, I mean, and deep down I actually yearned for her and loathed myself for feeling that way.
"A mother is only as happy as her least happy child."
My mother said that to me around the time I was getting married. Her joy and happiness for me was overflowing in a way I am sure I will one day understand myself as I watch my own child experience heartbreak and making mistakes and going through the challenges of growing up...and in my son's case, becoming a man. My mother helped me grow into the woman I am today, and I am thankful for her wisdom and her lessons of right vs. wrong. She is one of the most ethical people I know, and at the same time, she truly understands the shades of grey that interrupt a world of black and white issues, and more than anyone, I believe she knows the emotional roller coaster that is motherhood. When I am happy, she will rejoice, and when I am sad she will grieve with me. Only a mother knows that her child IS her heart, and her child's pain is her own heart hurting. I can relate now too, because I am a mother, and Jack is MY heart.Inspiration
Often in our lives we find inspiration in the little things; something touches our hearts, like a sappy song or a tender moment with a loved one, and the result is some sort of output relevant to our own personality and/or talents. My inspiration for this post is personal, but through the tears I am shedding while writing it I can share with you that the overall purpose of this piece is to express my deepest love and gratitude to my beautiful MOM on this extra special Mother's Day, 2011. Mom, I love you, and I will always need you to comfort me as only a mother's touch can do.
Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms in my life! You all inspire me and help make me the Mother I am to my sweet Jack. I love you all, and I wish you a wonderful day full of joy and adventure with your loved ones!
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