A Mother's Love

Recently, I read a post on Hydrocephalus Association by a woman that is slightly older than me who has a twin sister with hydrocephalus. She wrote the article for her sister to thank their mother for everything she has done for her sister. You see, her sister is not able to speak and can't express the gratitude she has for her mother in that way. It was short and sweet, but powerful and hit very close to home. Emma can speak and is diligently learning to communicate; but currently, I can't ask her if she is hungry, thirsty, uncomfortable, feeling sick, or anything of the like. Like the mother I read about, I can read my daughter's face and posture to know when she is happy and when something is off. It takes a sensitive heart to be that vigilant to always be looking to ensure that you don't see signs of pain, discomfort, or displeasure on your child's face. It's one of the reasons I still am not great about leaving my daughter to go to work or having her leave to spend time with her biological father. I can't see her face to know she is alright.

But this post also made me think of my mother and all of the things she did for me. And like the sister the article was written for, I too can not thank my mother verbally for all her support and sacrifice. I think that is also part of the reason I hold on so dearly to my daughter: the bond we share reminds me so much of the bond I had with my mother before she passed away just shy of my sixteenth birthday. Like Emma smiling when she hears my voice when I get home from work, I remember the feeling I had when I heard my mother's voice. It didn't matter if it was first thing in the morning and she was waking me up for school (which was never an easy task as I have never been a morning person) or in the evening during homework and dinner, her voice had a calming effect on me. After she passed away, I was so afraid of never hearing her voice again and forgetting what that felt like. I took the answering machine for the house that had her voice recorded on it and would play it over and over at night before crying myself to sleep. I no longer have a memory of what her voice sounded like to think about, and I wish I did. But now I have Emma's voice to make me smile and clear my head of any stress or frustration I may have. As soon as I walk in the garage door and see her smiling face or hear her happy voice, my heart melts and I'm calmer.

My Mom enjoying Alaska

I now understand, more than ever, what a mother's love is: it is unwavering and unending, calming and supporting, selfless and significant, life changing and unforgettable. I currently have had more years on this earth with my mother than without and I still remember how it felt when she hugged me as if to say, "I love you and nothing could ever change that."