Who Was My Mother Before She Was My Mother?

I pretend to know what it was like to grow up without a mother. I pretend to know what it was like to go on dates, search for jobs, and come home to a dinner table without one. I pretend to know what it was like to have a wedding, find a home and build a family, without a mother.

This is why I act like I have even the slightest idea of your greatness.
Of your pain.
Of your healing.
Of your strength.

I pretend to know what it was like to care for a baby in your belly and a 4 year old, while you gave chemotherapy to your 6 year old. I pretend to know what it must have been like to watch your first born child suffering. I pretend to know what went through your head as you watched her become weak, lose her hair, and lay in a bed for hours and days and eternities.

This is why I act like I have even the most minimal understanding of your levels of compassion.
Of your fears.
Of your regrets.
Of your unwillingness to settle for anything less than the best for us.

I pretend to know what it is like to raise 4 girls.  When you lost your own mother so young. When your first born almost didn't make it. I pretend to know how the course of your life has affected the way you cared for me growing up and the way you care for me today.

I pretend to know what it was like to set aside your personal goals and desires and dreams to take care of us all. To bring us from babies to toddlers to young adults; intellectually, emotionally and physically. I pretend to know what those 30 years of your life were like.

I pretend to know what it was like to say "no" to jobs you may have been good at, to say "yes" to raising us with your own hands. I pretend to know what it was like to say 'okay' when it was time to let your mother go, when you weren't ready to.

I pretend to know about sacrifices. I pretend to know about healing.
I pretend to know about you.

I pretend to know the reasons for the way you are today.

I pretend to know what gives you your deepest sense of satisfaction... Where your laughter comes from and how you maintain such ridiculous outer beauty. I pretend to know what you need to let go of in order to smile... How you pick garbage up on your walks home and how you obsess over Noni juice and smoothies and how you jump rope while you watch television- I pretend to know the real reasons behind you doing these things.

I pretend to know about your ability to make everyone know they are worth something; that they are worth everything.

I pretend to know about the level of patience and empathy and understanding that you have with children. I pretend to know about your ability to connect with any child and every child, independent of the form of communication it may require or how long it may take to turn the page of a book. I pretend to know what got you to be this way.

I pretend to know the slightest bit of your magnitude when I tell you "thank you", "I love you", "you're the best".
And more often, when I tell you, "I need more", "that's not good enough", "stop"- I pretend to know what you're going through and what you have gone through. And the truth is, I don't. And I'm sorry.

I pretend to know about what you need and want from life.

And I've come to realize that I don't really have any idea.
Because I have never lived the life you lived.
I have never lost a mother. And I have never been a mother.

The truth is,  I rarely consider who it was that you were before I started seeing you as "my" mother and not as the person you are.

Your life was so different than mine and I am curious about it.

And I'd like to change that.
Tell me more about who you are Mom, when you're not being my mother.


Happy Mother's Day
& Happy Birthday

to my mother
an amazing woman
a person I'd like to know more about.

I miss you very much.
I appreciate you more than you know.
I am still learning how to express that.