My Mom was in her early twenties when she married. She was nearly finished with college when her mother became ill; she spent her last semester tending to her mother instead of receiving her degree.
Life happened quickly. Mom became married and three months later she became sick as well. Only the sickness was simply a surge in hormones; Mom was pregnant.
Some women become mothers slowly and steadily. They marry and ease into the idea of pregnancy when their best friend has a baby. Lo and behold, they become pregnant, too.
Some women pine for children because their womb is uncooperative.
Eventually all women who long to become mothers find an outlet for motherhood, though sometimes it takes the form of mentoring or fertility drugs or adoption. Ironically, I have seen some single women with no children of their own who mother with far more heart than those married. Motherhood isn't so much a station in life as a place in the heart, a way of the mind.
My mother was thrown into motherhood quite quickly. She didn't even know she was pregnant until her constant sickness alerted her husband to the fact; he suggested she take a pregnancy test.
The thing about motherhood is that it is not a title which is earned over time. Generally speaking, it is immediate. One day you are an individual and the next day you are now the chief expert of a human being whom you have just met. It's a very shocking experience.
My mother grew up in the generation where you raised your own children. Once your children were out of the house, you could retire as a parent. She had a very tender hearted grandmother, Margaret Bready, who showed her how to nurture, but when she died, she had only the memories of that sweet woman to light her path for life.
I don't remember any one grand thing about my mother, but I remember a thousand meals, a safe home, constant guidance and loving arms when I needed them. I can't say that my mother developed a legislative initiative to cure world hunger, but for her tribe she taught that the kitchen should always be warm, that food should be respected and that all are welcome to the table. And all are welcome to chores as well. :)
What my mom doesn't know is that she is more a mother to me now than she ever was. Previous generations may have seen parenting as an 18 year stint with a clock-in, clock-out approach, but not my mom.
When I graduated from college, something odd happened. In the section of my heart where I should have cut the tethers to my mother and established my own methods of being a woman, I found that I needed her more. If anything, growing older has not quenched my need for mom, it has made the hunger larger. Which shocked me.
When I returned from my honeymoon with Dan, she gave us a container with flank steak which she had marinated. "For your first dinner home," she offered, knowing we were tired from our flight.
And that's not all.
It was my mother who taught me to dress the way you want to be treated, who wore nice outfits when she was a teacher even though her students were her own children.
It was my mother who taught me to be emotionally honest, to embrace life as a whole.
If it weren't for my mother, I wouldn't know what was happening to my body when I started to feel age creep upon me. My body began to give me new messages which I had never heard before. She told me the path that was ahead and offered suggestions.
My mother taught me about inclusion. About fighting for voiceless people, about seeing people who are usually invisible. She befriended poor and rich alike without any change in her demeanor.
By the time I am an old woman, I won't know what part of womanhood is my contribution or hers; I value her thoughts so much. She will never die while I live.
Some women sneer at the more base tasks of motherhood. It's probably because they don't see them for the building blocks that they are.
That introducing an infant to sweet potato mash as their little wayward tongue tries to navigate eating solid food and urging them to try Brussels sprouts when they are eleven might lead to them giving sushi a whirl on their first meeting with their boss when they're twenty-one.
Or allowing a 4 year old to express herself through an outfit that might induce seizures and holding your tongue when your 16 year old wears fluorescent pink lipstick could yield a child so confident in fashion mishaps that he or she has their own clothing line.
A three year old boy who feels his mother lean over his little body in order to help him hold the bat and feel the stance his chubby legs will need to know for years of baseball is not only learning that his mother is his exoskeleton, but that through vision and passion and muscle memory he can take an object and set it on another path.
Children need moms to brush their hair not because their wild locks will embarrass, but because the scalp is covered with nerve endings; each and every one of those receptors receives the message, "Someone is lovingly touching me and taking care of me" and THAT message is necessary so that children will grow into adults who know physical love in safe, beautiful ways.
Because of my mother, I don't see motherhood as a job for the uneducated or unenlightened.
What I see is a woman who has carefully fed and clothed and loved one child and then another.
And then three more after those two.
And somehow she has caused the threadbare education she received as a mother to be a wild, thriving enterprise. It's crazy. She started with nothing and is now flooded with people who attribute their life to her.
She has raised five humans to ask questions and find answers. To be honest and brave. To be kind and merciful. To be wary of toxic people and be firm in their resolutions about life. To try new foods and take care of our body. To say sorry and to really mean it. To grow things. To take care of animals and enjoy yard sales.
It's the wild, redemptive, ripple effect of motherhood. New chances every day to love and mold and express and grow. And it never ends. Full of second chances. Each day, each year offers new, exciting ways to mother.
Some women check out in life, but not my mom.
Her work has been slow. You won't see her featured on the Today Show, but as any business person knows, slow growth is the best. It's solid, intentional. Has a good foundation for life.
For starting with nothing, working with no end in sight and gaining a people she can call her own.
I'm proud of my mom.
