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Happy Mothers’ Day to all it fits. Mothers rock. Where would we be without them? As a mother, I know the minute to minute sacrifices you make for your kids each and every day. No matter what your circumstances or how you do motherhood, I applaud you. As Oprah says time and again, it’s the hardest job in the world.
Being a mother was one of the things I am absolutely certain that I was put on earth to do.
I cannot remember a time when I did not want to be a mother. It was just always a part of me. It doesn’t mean I always did it right. Not by a long shot, I’m sure my three daughters would say. But it was clear that being a mother was truly, truly important for me. Motherhood took on an even greater urgency after my own mother died when I was 20. I had my first daughter at 27, my next at 29, and my third at 36.
I don’t know whether the draw was in getting to pass on what my mother gave to me, or wanting to have a captive audience for which I could bake fresh bread, pies, cookies and other goodies, make clothes, cook delicious meals, grow fruits and veggies for, make quilts for, read to or snuggle in front of the fire with and watch old black and white movies with. Maybe it was all of the above and more.
Whatever it was, I wanted to do it and I could not be more proud of the three incredible women I ended up being privileged to mother.
As a mother, I quickly learned that my daughters were not put on earth to be extensions of me. Rather, I learned that they were on loan to me to love, protect and guide, but that I had to allow them to be who they wanted to be rather than who I might want them to be.
My girls having the freedom to be who they wanted was extraordinarily important to me. If you can’t be yourself, then what’s the point of being? Our children are not our second chance to try to “get it right” and have them live some version of a life we wanted for ourselves but did not quite manage to achieve.
Wanting to be a mother from such a young age, by the time I had my first child at age 27, I had thought a good deal about it, about what I wanted for them, what I was willing to do for them, what I could bring to the table as a mother, and how I could help them be all they could be. I consciously made the decision to treat them a certain way that I thought would be best for making them the best, most loving, productive, courageous people they could be.
I was always extremely aware of what I passed on to them. I understood that even though they might not seem to be listening, they were. Though something might seem situational to me, for them it might be a memory they held and used as the basis for their own actions. If I acted afraid of new things, they would be too, and it would make their world smaller. If I was accepting, they would learn to be too, and take on the world rather than reject it.
But, I did not raise my daughters alone. In addition to a loving family comprised of my Dad and siblings, and their families, they had a father who, though we are not still together, is the only father I have ever wanted for my daughters. They also had another mother. We were together for virtually all of the girls’ lives and still parent them together. In fact, all three of us do, and the girls get something distinct from each of us. She was the calm, steady presence. Having had a difficult teen passage when I did not and I did not understand it, she was their perfect refuge. She got it. Having somewhat different values about some things than I did, they knew there were things they could better tell her than me. She was the perfect foil for me.
I’ve written about my daughters before. All three of them are totally different, but share a set of core values any parent would be proud of.
I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to be their Mama and to pass on to them the incredible gifts my own mother gave to me.
Thank you, my crazy, wonderful girls. Thank you, Ma.
Peaces of My Heart 