For as long as I can remember, my grandmother was white haired, sweet and loveable. As the only grandchild to spend the first year of life in her care while my parents both worked to save for their first home, I enjoyed a special relationship with her and even a special place in her heart (though she wouldn't admit it to the other grandchildren). When my parents moved out, I'm quite sure my little psyche felt I was really being taken from my mom because she and I were so bonded, so I went to back to visit as much as was humanly possible.
That must have been difficult for my mom to know I preferred being with grandmom, but mom was tough, critical and had high expectations, and it was just more fun at my grandparents who doted on me and loved, without qualification, everything I uttered and did. The privilege of being a grandparent--spoil (though I prefer the word dote) and send home to mom to do the hard work of rearing and raising, which she did as best she could. Ceilinged by her education, experience and resources, she raised three girls to be hard working, highly responsible, and extremely successful in their chosen endeavors. So thank you again, Mom, for doing your best in a hard job.
And hard job it is, starting with labor. I gave birth naturally to 9.4 and 9.6 babies (small toddlers really) when they finally joined the world. I nursed each for a year, and as the quintessential earth mother, made all their baby food from scratch, washed diapers instead of buying pampers, and used psychology and well thought plans for discipline and education. I scrutinized every mile stone and created the opportunities for maximum learning and development.
I cried when they got sick or their playmates were mean. I felt their pain when they were left out or didn't reach one of their goals. I was elated and proud each time they succeeded, and I felt their joy as keenly as if it were my own. My children were my creation, my job and my heart, so letting go when it was time was tough.
What are the thanks for sacrificing our time, our bodies and our lives? Some of us are lucky to have our children close by--marrying, giving birth to our grandchildren--sharing life one generation with the next.
Some of us are not so lucky. Our children move so we can't interrelate, or choose dangerous occupations so we worry, or pass away and leave a hole in our heart. A friend just lost her son unexpectedly to an aneurysm--too young, too soon. Mothers shouldn't have to bury their children. It's too great a pain. My grandmother never recovered from having to bury her youngest child.
Some children grow up and discard their mothers. I met lots of them in the hospitals and rehab. centers when I was caring for my aging parents. The children blame their mothers for their unsuccessful or unhappy lives and leave them to age sad and alone. I have a friend who is struggling emotionally because her son has stopped speaking and visiting.
My advice to her and any mom struggling with the "could haves and should haves" is to know that you have been the best mother you could be. Most of us pour our hearts and souls into the little beings we give birth to and raise. In the end, we cannot take all the responsibility for who they
become. They are also the product of their DNA, their God given
disposition and their own choices. We launch them, yes, and give them the navigational tools, but they decide their destination and the wheel turns along the way. At some point, we can only pray they land safely.
Hopefully, you have children who know honoring you should not be relegated to just one day a year, but, if not, know you've earned the right to be honored for all your sacrifices, all your heart ache and all the investments you have made in them.
Happy Mother's Day to you all!
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