This week I am going to share with you a little bit about the
important motherly figures in my life.
This week I am going to share with you a little bit about the important motherly figures in my life.
Mothers Day is on the way as we all know. Or maybe this is a reminder for those who forgot that Mothers Day is always the second Sunday in May. But anyhow, I have been thinking of what to get my mom for mothers day. Should I get her something that she wants or needs, or something more sentimental? But as I learned from my father, don’t giver her a frying pan or a vacuum. Even if they are necessities, they aren’t gift material.
I also started thinking about other women who have shared their love and have become like second mothers to me. My Godmother is one example. My friends’ mothers also took me under their wings and were there for me giving me encouragement in my times of need.
But there is also one more woman in my life, that actually I have never met. She is my birth mother. I am adopted. I love the woman who adopted me. Whoever my birthmother is, my mom will always be my mom. I mean, she raised me, she has been there for me every step of the way.
But despite all that, the woman who gave birth to me has a special place in my heart. She gave me parents that love me. It is easy to be bitter towards them because they gave me away, but really, if they had raised me, I’m not sure what my life would be like. It would be different that’s for sure. But really I am grateful. They gave me life. They chose not to share their life with me, but they gave me loving parents.
I find it amusing after I tell people that I am adopted that they ask me if I like my adoption parents. They don’t understand that they ARE my parents. My mother and I don’t have the same blood, but she raised me and that is more important than blood. I suppose that one day I might want to consider meeting my blood parents. Ever since I was a small child I wondered what they looked like. Do they both have brown eyes and hair like me? Who did I get my curly hair from? Did they love each other? Do they still talk to each other or did they get married? All these things that I don’t know about creates a bond between them and me.
So what is my point here? My point is that I love my mother even though she did not give birth to me. She was there from when I took my first step to my first heartbreak. We bicker and fight like in any normal teenager-mother relationship. It’s all part of growing up. I want to grow up, but she doesn’t want me to grow up just yet. I am the baby and the only girl of the family.
Without her I don’t know where I’d be. She has put up with so much that I don’t know why she still puts up with me. We teenagers sometimes forget that our mothers have lives also. Aside from driving us to the mall, making our lunches and nagging us about our homework, our moms have dreams also. I bet sometimes they wish they could take some time off from being a mother. It’s hard work.
We often expect our mothers to always be there for us and to understand where we are coming from. That can be a challenge for our mothers who grew up differently than us. Just thinking about how many hundreds of diapers she changed between my brother and me makes me twitch. And then there were all our colds, fevers and booboos that she had to take care of. That’s why I have debated whether or not I want to be a mother some day. I look at what I have put my mom through and ask myself, “do I really want to go through all that?”
The answer is no, but somehow my mom still tells me that she wouldn’t trade being a mom for anything. I really don’t get it yet. Maybe I will someday.
So all and all, mom I love you and thank you for being my mom.
