It’s hard to believe we’re on the last week of May already. I started my email on the many faces of motherhood at the start of May. And here we are now and so much as happened since then, including a trip to visit with my mom, two of my sisters, and my brother after me.

Being a mother has always been filled with many hats. But how about the faces? Happiness. Joy. Grief. Pride. Disappointment. Encouragement. Anxiety. These are all valid faces of motherhood. It’s not just cooking, cleaning, tutoring, and chauffeuring. It’s all the emotion that comes with raising a child from conception to adulthood. And with that also comes everything that each child brings to our table.

I was blessed with one child. I couldn’t have more. In ways, I was sad about not giving our son a brother or sister, a forever friend. Yet, I didn’t want as many children as my mother birthed and raised. Being the oldest of eight children taught me a few things. Helping to raise them meant that with each smiling and laughing face also came responsibility. And, just because we all had the same parents didn’t mean we all thought, felt, or acted the same. Being a parent was serious business.

Today, I am grateful that my mom is still living. Her friendship brings so much joy to my life. We weren’t always close. Being only fifteen years apart, we often felt and acted more like sisters or friends than mother and daughter. When the teenage years came, and she needed more help raising my siblings, I often resisted the call to duty. In the end, I left home at sixteen, baling out on the demands of being the oldest. Inevitably, I had to learn how to live with the guilt of not sticking it out at home. To this day, it is something I’m not proud of but feel it is part of my story and something not only to own up to but also to share with anyone struggling with some of the same emotions I’ve dealt with over the years.

Thankfully, my mom and I worked through our differences. Once I became a mother myself, I realized just what it meant to nurture a child. I also understood why my mom could not just up and leave us when she wasn’t happy with your own life. Being part of an arranged and mixed marriage, she spent most of her life married to my dad feeling as though she was living in a prison. She often spoke of how unhappy she was and how she wanted to leave him. Technically, you could say I lived out her dream of leaving, of escaping the constraints of unwanted demands, but even I soon learned that came with consequences.

As most people I believe strive to do, I did my best to give my baby a happy home filled with love, joy, and the comforts of life which I felt I hadn’t received growing up. I did my best to reject and overcome cycles of angst, fear, and frustration. Today, my son has two children of his own who are thoughtful and kind souls.

Now that hubs and I are retired to his hometown, we see them less often than when we lived in the city. Our saving grace is that my son and daughter-in-love are both teachers. As always, I hope for a few more visits over the summer.

Good mothering comes with many sacrifices. Time. Energy. Selfcare. There are never enough hours in a day to do every needed thing. But when there is love, it all works out. The important things rise to the top and unimportant stuff sifts out for later or to never be thought of again. When there are communication gaps or misunderstandings, love heals like a Band-Aid covering the hurt until it can be talked about without more injury.

When I think of the many faces of motherhood growing up, I see my mom in the kitchen at midnight on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, and Easter, preparing the turkey, baking goodies, or dying eggs. I see my sisters with their children playing in the back or front yard or in the swimming pool. I see my friends at their children’s games or award ceremonies. And, I see myself walking in the mall hand in hand with my son, decorating the Christmas tree, prepping a house to sell, or biking around the neighborhoods.

There are hundreds of thousands of ways mothers show their love for their children. And yet, I cannot imagine any different than my own mother’s face smiling at me – whether when I was young or as old as I am today. It was a joy taking her out to eat for Mother’s Day, going with her to the Flea Market, shopping for more pretty beads at Hobby Lobby, and enjoying Movie Night with two my sisters. And I imagine, she enjoyed being with half of her six daughters.

There are many faces of motherhood. But when love is expressed, any face of my mother’s is a beautiful one. Her frustrations and anxieties of yesterday have been replaced with a peace and patience that now I strive to achieve. Despite years of unrest and children that are today aloof and unresponsive, my mom is loving, caring, and giving, always thinking of my best interest. I can only hope that I can do the same for my son and his family.

The month of May may be at an end, but the love in a mother’s heart who cares for her children will live on longer than the sky is blue and the summer is, well, hot. Her face will shine with the radiance of her heart, as she thinks of each child and what they will offer to the universe. My son brings unique perspectives and creativity, music, and a helping hand wherever he goes. I could not be more proud of his accomplishments.

May we all be so blessed – by a mother who loves us in all the many faces she wears. In my case, a grandmotherly one.

Love & hugs, Virg