Mother's Day

This week, having included Mother’s Day, has had me inevitably thinking about moms, and the role they play in our lives.

My own mother and I have had, up until the past few years, what I would call a tumultuous relationship. We butted heads on almost every issue for the majority of my childhood and teenage years, frequently resulting in explosive arguments for which we were both equally to blame. She wasn’t perfect, but neither was I, and we each had our moments of being cruel, ruthless, and unforgiving to the other. However, we also had many moments of incredible love, joy, and happiness in each other’s company; my mother was the first person who inspired me to be a writer, the person who introduced me to Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen, who taught me to relish the outdoors more than a television program, and whose immense strength fuels my own. No one was ever more important to her than her children, and she fought for me and my siblings to be safe, independent, educated, and to form our own opinions. For many, many years our family struggled financially, and it was my mother who pulled us through, not only by working full-time but also by making basic ingredients go far, baking endlessly so we would could eat. On top of that, she sewed not only any tears in our clothing but also curtains, chair covers, and epic Halloween costumes for us every year. When furniture became worn, she would redo it, sanding and polishing tables and dressers for hours or reupholstering couches, and when fixtures or electronics broke she wouldn’t hesitate to pull out tools and fix them.

She was a mother and a father too, wholly replacing the one who was barely involved in our lives except in a destructive way.  And when my parents finally separated, and the severe abuse that my father had drenched us all in for years was gone, it was my mom who pulled our broken family back together and got us smiling again.

 In many ways she’s everything I want to be in a mother to my own children. And she did all of this without the support of her own mother, who passed away from breast cancer at the young age of 46, when my mother was only 25 and pregnant with me. Before she died my mom had to care for her full-time, as the cancer had spread to her brain, and eventually my grandmother passed away a few months before I was born. And, inevitably, despite my grandmother's many imperfections in life and as a parent, the early loss devastated my mom to the point that the wound is still raw even now, 23 years later.

And it’s this that breaks my heart.

Because now, my mom is my best friend; she’s the person I turn to for advice on everything from “how long should I bake this casserole for?” To “what do I need in my nursery?” And all things in between. She’s not only an endless supporter and counselor for me in times of need, but she’s also devoted many hours to loving and guiding my husband objectively during his own struggles, and I can’t imagine my life without her.  But I’m fully aware that I wasted many years fighting with my mother rather than appreciating her, and that somewhere on a shelf of our lives there is a clock ticking away the minutes I get to spend with her before she’s gone.

And this is what I think we all need to remember: that it doesn’t matter how imperfect your mother can be at times, or frustrating, or slow, or quirky, or old-fashioned. What does matter is that you only have one of them, and regardless of their mistakes most of them enter motherhood optimistically, with the best of intentions and try their hardest to be the most perfect parent they can be. I know that I certainly am. And if yours is still alive and with you right now, be thankful, not ungrateful, and cherish the time you’ve been given because any day that could vanish, sometimes much earlier than you’re prepared for (if you ever are). It’s a lesson it took me many years to learn, but I’m glad I finally have, because I can’t imagine how I’d be coping now (22 and pregnant with twins) if I didn’t have her strong presence there for me on the days I’m feeling shaky. She's my port in a storm, and I hope that my own children will one day love and appreciate me the way I finally appreciate her.

"My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all of my success in life to the moral, intellectual, and physical education I received from her." - George Washington