I can’t describe a mother’s love. It would be like describing music to a deaf man or the perfect glass of wine to a Morman. A mother’s love; it exists only in a dimension understood once you get there.
A mother’s love is uprooting her life from one side of the world and moving to another. A mother’s love is scouring a Target for the "Blue Batman" that was dropped. A mother’s love is putting you in front of the mirror to show you how beautiful you are. A mother’s love is a bag in her purse because you throw up whenever you get nervous. A mother’s love is listening when the rest of the World won't. A mother’s love is calling you back after you hang up on her. A mother’s love is being sorry and being ashamed, because she didn’t live up to her own expectations. A mother’s love is – I’ll hold your hand no matter what.
A mother’s love is unconditional. It is loving your bad moods, your heart, your brain.
She loved me before she even knew me and – and long after she knew me too well. She loved me completely – even when she might not have liked me very much.
I know sometimes I can be ugly. I can be insensitive. I can be hurtful. I am this way because that is who I am.
I have never doubted your love, but I’m certain you may have doubted mine. I wonder if you think I’m grateful for you. I am – very much so.
I think we both think things could be better. I think we both wish it were different – sometimes. I want a fairytale – and you want it for me – we just sometimes draw different pictures of the happily ever after.
Three years ago I entered motherhood. I stare in disbelief at the boy we created.
Being a mother is a tremendous responsibility – to him – to the world. To give him the foundation for confidence, courage, respect, happiness. Arm him with some sort of beginning to take on the world, and build a strong and happy life for himself. I want for my child what any mother wants – a healthy laugh, happiness, a smile, eternal love.
On Mother’s Day, I don’t expect to be thanked. In fact, I use the day to remember what a privilege it is to be a mother. I am lucky to be able to look at my son and be filled with pride – in him and me.
But how do you thank the person without whom you wouldn’t be? How do you thank someone for air and breath and lungs and life? How do you thank someone for sleepless nights, for a lifetime of worry, for painful compromises, for never being first, for feeling the hurt every time you fall? How do you thank a person whose heart aches for you long after yours has skipped a beat?
A mother’s love …
There is no title so powerful, so important, so impactful, so innate – as mama.
