To My Mother

Motherhood is hard. Motherhood is a daily battle. You never stop, once you become a mother, you always mother. Whether it is your children, friends or family. It becomes less of what you are, and more of who you are. It consumes you. I am in the early stages of motherhood. I have only been doing this 3 years. But my mother has been doing this for 35 years.

I am, in many ways, just like my mom. We look alike. We are both stubborn. Opinionated. Blunt. Fun Police... The list goes on. She was difficult to grow up with. Not because she lacked love, but because she required me, and my brother, to have integrity, morals and manners. She required us to be the best version of US. She made us make our own choices, be free thinkers. She never let us quit. Not at sports, not at anything, especially ourselves.

Growing up with a strong-willed, stubborn mom, was hard. The teenage years, were by far, the worst. She pretty much, ruined everything (or so I thought). I didn't want to be like her, nor did I want to be "friends" with her. It was terrible. Constant battles, fighting and "endless groundings".

Then I left home for college, 10.5 hours away. I was, for the first time, free of my mother. It was great!  For about one week. Then I missed her. Then I started doubting myself, and my decisions. I remember, calling her and telling how I was feeling and I expected the "You can come home" talk. Instead, I got the "we drove all the way to Tennessee, you took out thousands in student loans, and you are going to do this". I should have known better. I should have known she wasn't going to coddle me.  Let me quit. Or even encouraged my doubts. Instead, she forced me to face my fears, and as I look back, hers fears too. I ended up, as she suspected, thriving. I made great friends, did well in school and found myself.

My mother and I began to foster a much better friendship thanks to the long distance. She became my best friend. Gasp. Yes, my best friend. I began to see her less as a the villain in my story and more the woman she was. I learned about her, the way I would about any new friend. It was quite the journey.

During this time, I was moving my life forward. I was dating my future husband, we soon were engaged and planning a wedding. And I learned even more about my mother. She was wed at 16, to my dad who was 19 with my brother on the way. She never had a wedding, like what I was planning. Nor did she get the choices I did. She had a husband, and child, to think about. The wedding planning continued. Some things, like the color of my dress, the level of elegance required for my wedding, all matter so deeply to her. I realized, she was living some part of her "wedding fantasy" through me. And oddly, I loved it! She was like a child standing before the candy store, just giddy with excitement and joy. It was exciting to see my mother excited, and so fun.

Sadly, during this time, my mother's Father passed away. Well, her Step-dad, but as far as we were concerned, he was her father. My grandpa John, a man I admire and love dearly, had a profound impact on my mother. Losing him, is, as I witnessed and can imagine, was my mothers saddest moments. It was difficult to watch my mother suffer. She was lost in grief, and sorrow. She cried. She wept. She was silent. It was so far from the strong,  determined woman I was used to. How do I comfort a woman, who is always the rock? Always the one with the answers?

It was the first time, the first time I really remember, my mother being a real person. The first time I saw her as a whole person. Not my mom. Not my dad's wife. A hurting, person, trying to do the best she could, to be strong in a time of total brokenness. My heart was already broken, from losing my grandfather, but more than that it was broken for my mom. I had no idea how to comfort and support her.

I flew back to school, in my last semester of my senior year, with a brand new perspective of my mother, a broken heart for the loss of my grandfather and wedding to finish planning. I spent a lot of late nights studying and making sure to finish up strong, but kept finding myself thinking of my mom. Who was she? I really didn't know. I knew she was strong. I knew she was the glue that held my family together, but I didn't know her.

My wedding came and we celebrated, we rejoiced and partied. We had so much fun. So many memories made that day.  Then came the wedding night, the honeymoon, and then the big move. Yet again, I moved away from home. We settled in Michigan, newlyweds, trying to do our best to make the right choices and protect our marriage. With distance between us again, my friendship with my mother continued to grow. I learned more about her, and as wife, I grew to have a better understanding about her. I learned through family, and through the stories that get told at family events, the depth of love my mother has for me and my brother. She made incredible sacrifices for our family and as I lived through my own marriage I could now better understand some of her choices. I could truly put myself in her shoes. I may have been 7 years older, in much better circumstances, than her, but I found myself, becoming more and more proud of who my mom was. She isn't a superhero. She isn't some big CEO, but she was someone worth being proud of.

Fast forward to my next milestone. After taking our first vacation together, my husband and I, against statistical odds, found out were expecting our first child.

I. FREAKED. OUT.  (I can not express to you in words, the fear, hyperventilation and tears that overcame me for 24 hours..)

We had only been married 3 years. My husband was in his 3rd year of his Ph.D. I was working for a church, that was having financial difficulties. We were poor. And now were are expecting a baby.

Then I realized I had to tell my mom. I was so afraid. I was worried she would think that I had "made the same mistake" she had. (let me just state, no child is a mistake, nor does a mother feel that way about their child... but growing up with a mom who had her first at 16, she always encouraged us to not make the same choices, both for our future and for the sake of the child...) Anyways, the time came and I was scared. I was afraid she would be disappointed in us. But she wasn't. She cried. A LOT. But I think she was excited.

And again. I saw my mother through yet another lens. This time through motherhood. It is this lens, that I have really been able to understand who my mother is. Not all mothers are created equal. Not all mothers make sacrifices. But my mother did. And she didn't like us to know.

It wasn't until my daughter was born, and boy, is she a spitting image of me when it comes to her personalty, that I finally have come to terms with who my mother is. Every day is a battle with my daughter. She is strong-willed, stubborn, and her own little person. She is me and my mother through and through. And now I find myself being my mother, to me as a child. I find myself, in my mother's shoes. I now fully understand her choices, and am living with me as child.

So,

To my mother:

I must apologize. I am sorry for the endless crying as baby, (how we both survived.. I have no idea). I am sorry for always testing you, and my boundaries. I am sorry for always painting you as the villain and never seeing the sacrifices you made for me and for my brother.

I want to say thank you, for all you did. And for those struggles and sacrifices that I am still unaware of, and for the sacrifices I know that you made. You have been, and continue to be, a great mother. The more I mother, the more I realize the hardships you took on for me. The tireless nights, the stress of providing for us, and making sure we were prepared for the real world. It is incredibly hard. And I simply want to say thank you. We noticed. We appreciate it, even if it doesn't' seem like it.

So thank you for choosing us, even when it was hard. When it was easier to chose you. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for loving me enough, to make sure I turned out like you. Strong. Compassionate. Empathetic and most importantly. Brave.

I love you more than words can describe.

Your Daughter