As of today, my mother is 43 years old which is, in my view, still young. Each year on her birthday I write something sappy and share it across my various social media accounts. This year will be no different.
As I have shared in the past, my mother became pregnant at the age of sixteen; she gave birth to me when she was seventeen. By her twenty-second birthday, she was the single mother of a five year old girl, two year old boy, and an infant baby boy. Today, twenty-one years later, she has been a mother for more than half of her life. Even in her youth, however, she possessed a wisdom that has been invaluable to my brothers and I. She built a solid foundation for us through her strengths; she showed us perseverance through her triumphs, and she taught us about resilience, humility, and humanity through her trials. My mother is not perfect, but she is a damn good mother.
As a teenager, I remember the honest, open conversations she had with me about sex, my body, and my value. I remember her taking me to the gynecologist when she found out I lost my virginity. (I also remember thinking "this lady is absolutely crazy!" as she and the gynecologist spoke throughout the visit. Lol!) I remember her teaching me the importance of yearly PAP smears, being tested, condoms, birth control, and my overall health. I also remember her telling me that my body is the "temple of God" and sharing the emotional and physical benefits of abstinence.
The experience is such an accurate portrayal of our relationship. Irrespective of how big, small, good, bad, or ugly an issue is, I can always take it to her. I may not apply or like the advice she offers, but I can count on her to give me honest, good counsel. We get a good laugh whenever we remember the day I was so frustrated with her sound wisdom that I called her response a "Joel Osteen answer."
My mother is my sister, friend, and greatest ally. She is a kind person. Her heart is good. She's funny. She's openly human. She is long-suffering, and I admire her for all that she is.
I remember sitting in my bedroom's closet, in tears, talking to her on the phone a few years back, and she said something I'll never forget. "Baby, I understand, not because you're my daughter, but as a woman, I understand." I am so appreciative of my understanding mother.
So to the woman who birthed me, raised me, celebrates with me, prays for me, cheers me on, encourages me:
To my lifelong love:
Happiest of Birthdays! I hope all the love you've given my brothers and I returns to you tenfold. May your best years lie ahead.
