After reading my last post, my mother texted me to let me know how much she enjoyed it. But she also said this to me:
“I do regret we never took a REAL vacation. I get sad about it sometimes. But only for you guys, never sad for myself…” And it made my heart tighten to think of how there are mommas out there who are struggling to make it- maybe even on their own- and regretting the things that they cannot give their children. You wake up before the sun every single day and work a job (or two, or three, like my mother) that you don’t love simply to keep the lights on and food on the table. You fight to make it to every game and concert and activity even though you can’t really afford to miss work. You make sure not to make promises for fear that you won’t be able to follow through. You have restless nights in the dark worrying about how you will afford school supplies, uniforms, fees, and club memberships… or worry about the pain of seeing your child’s face drop when you tell her she can’t do cheerleading this year. And you cry, but you’ve gotten really good at hiding it, because they aren’t tears for you, they’re tears for them. So you take from yourself to give to them. Everything. You pour out of yourself until you feel like you have nothing left to give. And then you pour out more. And the lucky ones have a spouse that pours out too. But some of you mommas are the only vessel and you often feel like you’re running dry. But you keep pouring out what you can. I know you do. I know it because I saw my own mother do it. And I didn’t really see it then- not until I had kids- but I see it now, in my childhood memories. Oh mommas… don’t you know by now? Don’t you see? The material things that we can’t give our children do not matter. Not even a little bit. What I took away from my childhood was so much more important that getting to stay a couple nights in a hotel room and ride some rollercoasters. A day at the beach could never have taught me what I know about mothering from watching my own mother. Hard work. Dedication. A spirit of determination. Accepting help when you need it, and never taking more than you need. Gratefulness. Joy in what you have, instead of sorrow for what you haven’t. And love. And love. And love. Love in the form of late nights and early mornings, endless chauffeuring to games and activities, heart and soul- not money- poured into the simplest of days to make them special, ears that listened, pride swallowed, body broken, hands calloused, eyes tired, and heart full. But can I tell you something? They see it. Your children. I know that you think they don’t care or appreciate you, but they see it. And someday, they’ll understand it too. They will feel it in their bones. Your love-struggle will be interwoven into the innermost fabric of their very being. Don’t you see that what you’re giving them is so much more important than what you can’t give them? You know what breaks my heart even more than knowing that *I* never got to take a vacation as a kid? It’s knowing that my mother never got a vacation. Because now that I’m a mom I know. I know that no one in the world deserved it more than her. Not for us, for her. For YOU, momma… but it never mattered to her as long as we were healthy and happy. You have not struggled for nothing, momma… so keep going.
1 Comment
Helen McNabb
9/18/2015 10:19:55 am
well, through my tears I know that every word you said is true. Your Mother is a remarkable woman. Not only has she given of herself to her wonderful children, she is always there for me, as well. She always has a smile and no one would guess she had a care in the world. I am proud to be her Mother.
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AuthorMy name is Chelsea. Redeemed. Wife. Mommy. Photographer. Light Chaser. I hope you find light here too. Archives
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