Both of my daughters are now at the stage of having an empty nest. What they are finding is that while their children are no longer living mostly at home, they still come to mama when they encounter problems. My two girls have asked me when they might reach a point of not worrying about their offspring. In all honesty I have had to give them the news that a mother never quits thinking about her children and wondering if they are alright. Motherhood is a lifetime job.
It has been thirteen years since my mother died. Just before going to the hospital she sensed that she was not long for this world. She insisted that I look after my younger brother, Pat, once she was gone.. She was worried that he was lonely and would not have anyone to share his sorrows. She begged me to stay close to him and to make sure that he was happy. As it turned out, Pat found true love not too long after our mother died. I have always believed that she had some mystical influence in sending Allison to him. I doubt she would have relaxed even in paradise if she thought that he was lonely.
After my father died when I was eight years old my father’s mother went to great lengths to make sure that my brothers and I were safe and secure. She turned our grandfather into a surrogate for the daddy that we had lost. There too I felt as though Grandma was thinking about what her son would have done for us and she showed our grandfather how to fill her boy’s shoes.
Grandpa lived to the ripe old age of one hundred eight. My brothers and I were self sufficient adults when he died. The night before his demise I had the most vivid dream of my life. As I lay slumbering my grandmother sat on my side of the bed and gently awakened me. She lovingly explained that Grandpa was old and tired and no longer able to be a father figure to us as she had asked him to do. She saw that we were doing well and told me that it was time to let Grandpa rest with the angels. She let me know that my father, her son was doing well and was comforted by knowing that we had turned out so well.
There are a multitude of stories about mothers making tremendous sacrifices for their children even to the point of offering to die for them. Mothers awake in the middle of the night to comfort a crying baby and connect almost spiritually forevermore. They often have a sixth sense when something is amiss with one of their children. They can read even the slightest quivering of a voice or a facial expression that says that something is not quite right. Mothers can be lambs or lions as needed in the lives of their children.
I have heard so many stories of incredible nurturing from the mothers of my students. I knew of one woman who labored sixteen hours a day cleaning homes and buildings. She arrived home each evening with swollen ankles, weathered hands and debilitating exhaustion only to do laundry, prepare meals, check homework, read stories, listen to worries, give hugs.. Most of us view our mothers as living saints and remember every good bit of love and sacrifice that they showered on us even when we sometimes never showed them appreciation for what they did.
It is difficult to imagine any culture or society in which mothers are not angels, even as I did encounter terrible situations of abuse in my work as a teacher. Such women are outliers, monsters who are somehow defective. Thankfully most of us never have to endure the terror of having a mom who selfishly does not care about our security and wellbeing.
My cousin, Terri, adopted her son. He has been the apple of her eye and she is justly proud of his many accomplishments. He’ll soon be heading to college but he will never be far from her thoughts as she watches him fly away from the nest that she has so lovingly provided for him. Her door will always be open. Her ear will always be ready to hear whatever he needs to say. He heart will forever beat a bit more quickly just by the mere sight of him.
I love following the stories of young mothers who take their children to ballgames and dance lessons, camping trips and musicals. I enjoy seeing the eternal love on their faces and the joy that their children return to her with laughter. I know how many sleepless nights mothers offer to their children. I see how important their babies are even as they begin to push away into adulthood. Motherhood is a gift that is rolled up in a big ball of fun and worry and sacrifice and celebration. Every mother is everything everywhere all at once when it comes to her children. That is true from the time that she carries a child in her womb to the day when she takes her last breath. The terror of every mother is the tragedy of losing a child in an untimely death. There is no greater sorrow that she must endure.
Being a mother is beautiful and magical, anxiety inducing and exhausting. For most who become mothers there is nothing else in life quite as glorious. We moms get each other. We know about all the feels.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 