To Be A Mother

I knew what I expected, even what she could do. I knew our history and where I hoped we’d be. 

But I didn’t know what it was to be a mother until I became one.

My mother grew up in Evansdale, Iowa. It was a small town near the county seat of Waterloo. The roads were gravel. Her family home did not come with the facilities. In her earliest days, she remembered going to the outhouse to tinkle. She grew up with two sisters she shared a bed with. Being the middle child wasn’t easy. 

I came into the world after my mother had 2 sons. Thinking she could only have boys upon my delivery she was overwhelmed with delight.

I am grateful to know I was wanted and loved from the first moment. Hearing stories from others of not having that foundational bond with their mother sounds devastating.

This was the first gift my mother gave me long before I could speak a word. 

As I grew she was my hero. Her blue eyes were oceans of love, but my mother had a big job. She raised the four of us while my Father worked at the factory. 

She made us meals, she mended our clothes, she even tried to spank us if we were naughty, (but it didn’t hurt). 

She was often tired, and sometimes sick. From a young age, I could sense her stress, anxiety, and even fear. 

I didn’t know the struggle to work through your own issues while raising little children. I didn’t understand how anger can bleed through the patience a mother wants to have with her children. 

I didn’t know what it was like to be a mother until I became one.

I grew distant and irritable in my teen years. My mom was ever working to help me even when I complained or yelled. Lost in my own insecurity I had no idea how impossible it was to make me happy. The toll I must have given her as her beautiful dark hair turned from gray to white. Can motherhood do such a thing?

She was there shortly after my son, Isaiah was born. She swept him up and smiled at me patting my hand. I understood her differently after the hard labor and loss of blood. She had almost met death four times to bring her children into the world. This was the hidden sacrifice of motherhood. 

I didn’t know what it was to be a mother until I became one.

Later when I had three in diapers and the middle one wasn’t taking the newborn’s existence very well, I called her crying. She listened and came to help. I felt embarrassed and relieved, as a mom I still needed my mom.

It is a sad loss to not have your mother even if you have lived on your own for many years. Her voice is cathartic, her listening ear a choice medicine.

From time to time I call her now just to say I’m sorry. I finally understand the frantic look in her eye when we were rushing out the door for school. I know the pain in the heart when little girls become tweens and don’t want you much anymore. I know the ache of two children graduating and know life will never be quite the same. 

As a high school graduate, I rolled my eyes when Dad told me Mom cried all the way home from dropping me off at college out of state. What was the big deal? I thought.

I didn’t know what it was to be a mother until I became one.

So to you, my dear mother, Geraldine, thank you for your tender care. Your friendship is a treasure I cling to. Your prayers and words of love strengthen me and make me a better mother to my own children. I love you.

And to all mothers who have given of themselves to make a world for their children. To you brave women that have sacrificed sleep to care for your young. To you who have made countless meals, shopped endless sales, and received countless burns from curling teenage girls’ hair, you are our heroes! Happy Mother’s Day.

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