About a week ago a wonderful woman I know announced a contest of sorts through her organization Xylem Family Resource. All one had to do was write a note about their favorite part of being a mom. I have been thinking about it a lot since then because I honestly could not pin down what my favorite part was. Well this morning I think I got it, even though it is too late for the contest. So I will share it here because, honestly, it is pretty awesome!
I guess in my heart and soul I have always known my favorite part of being a mom, but today is when the words came to express that. Well at least as well as words can.
I am immensely blessed when it comes to Mothers. See I have one wonderful mother, the one who I was formed in, who grew me and brought me into this world. This mother I have never met because shortly after my birth she relinquished me so that I could have a better life than what she could offer me. You see, although she came from a large, loving and supportive family, she was a student and was single. She knew the life she wanted for me was more than she could give, and that there were families out there praying for the baby she carried, who would be able to give her child everything she hoped for. That kind of love leaves a mark on someone.
And then there is my mom. The most amazing, smart, loving, funny, beautiful, faithful, God loving, wise, and kind woman I have ever known. She is the one who told me about boys, braided my hair, and taught me how to cook and how to apply mascara. She is the one my kids call Grandma and who I call when I forget a recipe or just need to talk. She grounds me and loves me exactly as I am. That kind of love changes a person.
Growing up I never felt unwanted or abandoned. My mom and dad did an amazing job telling me what little we know about my birth parents, and always told me it was out of self-sacrificing love that my birth mom gave me up. I always felt as much a part of the family as my by-birth relatives. I always felt like a gift, a miracle, and that security gave me wings.
One thing I did miss growing up was having people who looked like me. Sure my parents and brother and I have similar features, (to the point in high school I lost friends because they thought I was lying about being adopted,) but nothing like having my mother’s nose or grandpa’s chin or dad’s eyes. So when my first was born I so hoped and prayed he would look just like me. He didn’t. In truth he is nearly identical to his dad. Identical except for one thing. When Z was about a week old I noticed it. He has my hands. Wrapped around my finger was the most perfect and identical miniature version of me. I burst into tears, quickly wiping them away so I could continue to gaze at them. I think I stared at his hands for hours a day. I still marvel at them. (And my other 2 kids have my hands too!)
So what’s the point, you may be asking. Here it is. The thing I realized this morning, what is my most favorite part of being a mother, is that I get to pass on the most wonderful aspects of my mothers. From physical characteristics that may be from my birth mom, to the importance of God in my life from my mom – these are the gifts I am honored to give to my children. The immensity of my love for my children is funneled down to them from the immense love I have been given by my earthly mothers. I know what it is like to be unconditionally, intensely and unceasingly loved by women of strength and character. I pray I can live up to their example and let my kids experience that too.