The Warrior Mom

Three days. The number that represents past, present and future. The number 3 that is creation and the number of sides of the strongest foundation on earth, the pyramid. Speaking of creation, it was on the third day sometime in 1985, after being intimate with my father, when my mom said she felt my soul implant herself right into her body. She felt me, this gentle and warm energy radiating right at her heart center. Now, back in Ukraine where I was born, this was a time where there were no early detection tests to determine pregnancy yet. My mom would have had to wait at least a month to know, yet here I was already making my presence known. This was uncanny and supernatural from the origins. This was a momentous time especially given that my mom thought she would never have children. Yet here she was in time, feeling a presence in her heart and body, a soul born of true love because she loved my father tremendously. Ever since I can remember, and given my mom’s testimony, from the second I came down to this earth, my mom and I have had and have such an unbreakable, strong and deep connection that’s unfathomable. She’s always been my protector and I hers. In my life, my mom has been the only constant. She’s always there like a lioness, roaring with pride or ready to shred an enemy to pieces if need be. I can always count on her to have my back weather sun or rain. So, when my mom decided to make her dream come true and emigrate to America, my dad didn’t come. Fact is my dad wasn’t ready for me, but the world was. One day when we were already living in Brighton beach New York (dubbed little Odessa, which is where we are actually from in the Ukraine), I asked my mom a profound question after a day of school. Apparently, all my schoolmates seemed to have a daddy, but I didn’t. So I asked my mom this in Russian, “Where is my dad, mom?” Well, with tears in her eyes, mom answered candidly, she said, “He didn’t want to be with us.” This part I’m about to tell you always makes me laugh a little, because although it’s a little bit sad and especially for my mom, I like how my mom describes my expression. My mom said I always reminded her of a little old lady because my answers and demeanor were so mature that certainly I am an old soul sitting within this child. Anyway, I look up at my mom as a four year old with this furrowed brow, pensive...and I reply, “Well, I have you mom.”

So, what has my mom taught me? It’s probably too much to count on my fingers and toes but I do have this to say initially. To that question, I would like to first state that a big part of teaching children comes with storytelling. Through the power of real life storytelling, she taught me about not only overcoming some of the most grueling, mentally shattering adversities one can face but to also have an appreciation, gratitude and smile for life despite all the bad. You see I believe that families and the world are doomed to repeat the same cycles until someone decides to do something differently. It so happened that I had to go through a similar cycle as my mom did in her childhood but with some differences. Naturally, my mom broke some cycles within the cycle. Nonetheless, both my mom and I had bad, abusive stepfathers that changed our lives. My mom’s stepfather put my mom through hell on earth and she was raped as a child until she was 17 years old. So, when my mom married my stepdad, she never knew that he would turn out to be the bad person he was. As a result, growing up, my stepdad put me through emotional and physical abuse. However, I never blamed my mom for not leaving, because she simply couldn’t. She was undocumented and so was I. We had nowhere to go, and especially my mom couldn’t because I also had my two younger siblings. Even in a scenario where my mom would leave, life would be financially unbearable. At the time, not knowing enough information, not having any friends or family in this country to advise or help her, staying with this man and dealing with his emotional abuse towards her and me was, sadly, more ideal than being thrown into a life of the unknown and impoverishment. So, I’ve always been profoundly pensive but it’s only because my mom actually gave me something worthy to think about it. Thus, in my young years, I always pondered and reminded myself of my mom’s stories. They were the stories of a heroine to me. In them, I found my reasons for not just daily gratitude but the importance of honesty. I was and am so grateful that my mom always told me the truth even if it wasn’t the most pleasant. My life wasn’t always the best but it was better than what most people had. To me, the key was comparison. You always have to compare your life to gain some kind of perspective. My mom had her childhood stripped from her, her innocence, but I still had mine. Thankfully, I wasn’t raped. Moreover, I had food in my belly every day, multiple times a day. I was never hungry whereas there were times my mom, when she had given birth to me, could only eat once a day. Back then in Ukraine we were so poor because our family had lost it’s business. She only had enough food to at least produce milk for me. It was these life stories that gave me hope and stimuli to continue. They were reminders to be appreciative every day. If she could survive those times in her life so could I. Moreover, I knew dreams came true. Nothing is forever and bad times are temporary. There always comes the sweet taste even after a bite of bitter fruit.

After all, dreams certainly come true to those who are patient, diligent and grateful. My mom always put us, her children first. She poured years of her life into cooking for our family, cleaning the house, always taking the time to sit down to guide and talk to me and my siblings, and taking us to the park every time the weather was nice to keep us happy. My mom gave me her best. She was and is the most selfless woman I know. In her demonstration of that selfless, unconditional love, I am the empathetic individual I am today. I always aim to help people when I can, and I continue to accumulate inspiration from my mom. Even in this past month of May, my mom sent 500 dollars to her childhood friend in Ukraine, because her mother had passed and she had no way to pay for the funeral. Who just sends 500 dollars like that? Most people I know wouldn’t do that. However, my mom IS that kind of humanitarian individual. She is a true leader and role model to me. I am so thankful to my mom every day. She always did her best with what she had and knew at the time and continues to do so. I wouldn’t take back anything I went through growing up because it made me into the sturdy woman I am today.

As a result of all the pressure I went through as a child and teen, I can face tribulation head on in any difficult time because I know it will always pass. I believe we choose our parents from up above and I always know why it is that I chose my mom. Warriors raise warriors and there’s no one else who would have been better for the job than my mom. Life is made of hills and valleys, ups and downs. My mom is the quintessential guide and leader of how to cope in times when you're deep in the valley, and it’s rainy and cold. She led me out of caves time and time again with her wisdom. Life isn’t the same anymore and it has changed drastically for us since those days of her 18 year marriage. My mom is no longer with my stepfather and we both have been documented for a few years now. It makes it all the greater when I’m now at the top of the mountain with her by my side. Our lives have turned into something beautiful and it only keeps getting better. I dedicate my life to my mom because she’s my biggest fan and inspiration. She is the reason I stay kind and humble on days when I am feeling mean and ruthless. She’s my reminder to always smile in the face of adversity, to always stay kind and to never quit fighting for what you believe and want in life. This story is in honor of my beautiful mom. She’s my angel on Earth.