She Goes by Many Names

Mom. Mother. Mama. Mommy.

How special it is that a universally known word holds so much power, emotion, and meaning to every individual who walks this earth.

Her grace is unmatchable. Her love is unconditional. Her support is unwavering. She gives with her whole being and never ceases to shine her bright light on the ones she loves most. Her love is fuel. Her kindness is contagious. Her generosity is surreal. Her love, generosity, and kindness create a ripple effect that can’t be stopped.

Her courage to continue living beautifully each and every day is inspiring and often taken for granted. Her strength is infinite, for the hurt, pain, and hardship she experiences transforms into love, purpose, and beauty with each breath she takes.

I call her Mom.

From the moment I drew my first breath, she was there. She held me close to her heart, her hands holding the entirety of my little body. Her love radiated from within, as if a protective shield encompassed me. The immediate connection was overwhelming in every possible way. Questions arose with every simultaneous rising and falling of our chests.

How will I protect her?

Am I strong enough?

Who will she grow up to be?

Will I be a good mother?

What will happen to her?

Will she be okay?

Will my family be okay?

Being responsible for another being is a huge commitment, one she didn’t take lightly. But it wasn’t the commitment that scared her, or the fact that she was now a mother of three; it was the fear that her little girl might not be okay. However, her faith kept her strong, and with each breath we took together, skin to skin, a bond formed and slowly the questions faded away as she sunk deeper and deeper into the present moment.

Through the support of friends and family, prayer, and affirmative action, her little girl healed and survived. Through the uncertainty, fear, and pain, she grew in her faith and she adapted to a new normal as a mom of three.

It is easy to turn your back on your beliefs, morals, faith, and family when going through hard times. But my mom didn’t. She deepened her faith, her relationships with friends and family, and her relationship with herself. And instead of turning bitter, she rose up and spread kindness and love to every single person she crossed paths with. Her daily acts of kindness may not seem like much, but they mean the world to those who are on the receiving end of her generosity and they mean the world to me, because I get to witness the friendly exchange full of smiles and compliments.

My mom and I love having frequent mother-daughter date nights. Sometimes we dress up and other times we wear sweats or workout clothes. Our date nights are always lots of fun, full of deep conversations, laughter, sharing of memories, and always end with devouring a chocolate dessert. I will forever cherish these moments we share, working on our smile lines and enjoying every bite of the meal we are fortunate to be eating. And as the dinner wraps up and the check comes out, my mom grabs a pen from her purse and starts writing a note on the back of the check. She often writes, “Thank you!!! We appreciate you!!! Have a great day!!!” And you can’t forget the thousands of exclamation points; that is her signature mark on all things sweet. Sometimes I add a smiley face or a drawing. And more times than not, the server comes back to the table after picking up the check with a big smile, and thanks my mom for the beautiful note.

These are the little moments that have the biggest impact on my life. It doesn’t matter what my mom is going through; she shows up for others, for strangers, and for friends. She says, "goodbye," and, "thank you," to the grocery store workers. She never forgets a birthday. She never forgets to tell people how special they are. She sends cards and gifts to me, my sisters, and her friends. She constantly thinks about everyone else and what she can do for others. Everyone she encounters is not a stranger, but a person with a name. Everyone is somebody. Everyone has a story, a life outside work. She takes the time to listen to people, hear their stories, and acknowledge their presence in this world.

After my parent’s divorce, she struggled with depression, often spending most of the day on the couch. But her pain and sadness didn’t keep her from showing up for me. She drove me to school every single day and I knew I could count on her being there when the school day was over. Sometimes there would even be a treat waiting for me in the car. She bought groceries and made dinners. She provided for me, offered support, listened to my deep thoughts about life, and spoiled me with hugs and kisses. She rose up every. single. day.

For a while I selfishly thought that my story was only mine and I was impacted by it the most, but I no longer think that holds any truth. I don’t remember the pain and suffering I experienced as a baby, but my mom does. I don’t remember having complications and having to have another surgery, but my mom does. I don’t remember recovering, but my mom does. I don’t know what it is like to have a baby, and then have that baby rushed to the cath lab moments later, but my mom does. She remembers all twenty-eight days we spent in the NICU together, and she will have those memories forever. I can’t imagine having to watch someone I love experience so much pain, but my mom did. She did it all.