Prerequisite for Motherhood.

After reading three absolutely engaging memoirs, (thoughts here, here, and here), and then watching a Netflix documentary that shook me to the core, a mirage of thoughts poured in… birthing this post. 

I continue to argue, motherhood is the most important vocation in the world, and this sentiment is not exactly emanating from a mushy-cushy kumbaya moment either. This position is as serious as it gets.

 

Fact is, I know of no mother, who looked forward to motherhood, hoping their child be born with setbacks. First thing many do is count them toes and fingers, before opening a vein to pour their soul into ensuring their child not only survive, but thrive. The point. Mothers instinctively, and from experience, know there will be enough challenges in this child’s life, just based *alone* on the tasks webbed into coexisting with billions of other humans, merged in conjunction with an exhaustive list of global conduits. There simply is no room for extra interferences.

Caring mothers start out holding a wish list with often only one bullet point on the page; raising humans who will be well-adjusted and happy, make her proud and be a viable addition to society. Yes, this job, no fluff, is a big deal… grander than any other job in the entire ecosphere, given all other vocations are obliged by the contributions of mothers. And yes I know. What about the father? And help, help, help…who else can this responsibility be offloaded on? This is the whole point. Mothers are the MVPs of societies, why those who care…taking on this job like an oath of office… deserve worshiping. 

Now moving along…what follows is a true story. I was in one of my moods when someone asked (either on the radio or TV…don’t recall…doesn’t really matter in juxtapose to my recent reading and that one doc that punched me in the gut), “what is the fondest memory you have of your mother?”

Right away I remembered when I had disappointed my mother greatly. She was so hurt and so angry, asking over and over why I had done what I had done. Why did I CHOOSE to hurt her!?! Of course, or rather ‘on that road paved with good intentions’ nothing could have been further from my objective. 

But see, my mother was trying to keep those obstacles (or setbacks) off my path. She wanted me to be happy. Her proud. And society rewarded. I read all of this welled up in her eyes. But I had no language, no sophistication to explain myself. I mean, just look at how long…almost a half century later, it took drawing out this post, which another thing about my mom; She was no fan of ‘off the beaten path’ talks. The quote she used on me… a lot… “keep it simple, stupid!”

At any rate, as I stood facing my mother, the both of us no more than a foot apart, trying to find an elevator pitch that would assure my mom I wasn’t out to get her, this sudden avalanche of sobs came out instead. I rarely cry so I was quite surprised, and surprised even more when my mom took me in her arms. I couldn’t believe it! So much was expressed in that embrace…the both of us seeing each other through the waterworks. It is one of my ‘fondest’ memories. Like reading words without sound through thin air.

To All the Mothers caring for the little ones, and often the big ones too, Much Love and Happy Mother’s Day.

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