Motherhood, as in speaking (or writing, that is) about my own mother and that of being a mother myself, is – for me – another word for Querencia, my Word of the Year.

In the beginning, I only thought of motherhood in reference to being a daughter. And, of course, I sometimes dreamed of motherhood in terms of being a mother one day, possibly, as I mostly didn’t want to be a mother. I learned young that it came with lots and lots of responsibility. And I wasn’t sure I could do it right. I saw how much my mom struggled to be a good mother and how she strived to make good decisions for her children including whether to stay in an arranged marriage where there was no romantic love between her and my daddy or to walk out. But what to do about the children she loved so much? What would she be teaching them about life if she did that? I got it. I got her dilemma, and so I delayed getting married, making sure the man I chose to marry was one I could create a family with, who I’d never get bored with, who could also put up with my strong personality (don’t let my shyness fool you!) and, thereby, possibly and hopefully live happily ever after.

So, in keeping with my word of the year, it should be no surprise that I consider the arms and hugs of my mom, whom I call Momma Love routinely these days, a place of safety and unconditional love.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way. Being the oldest I was supposed to take the things I was being taught by my mother and pass that knowledge onto my siblings, especially my sisters. The thing is I never understood the cue, that one directive that told me quite clearly that this was my role. It wasn’t until years later that it even dawned on me to consider this. I can laugh about it now, but there were many times when I stressed out about being the oldest. This affected my relationship with mom in many ways, and it took many years to get it all sorted out.

As I got into my preteens, my world expanded and I had the opportunity to be around more people. Many of these new friends and acquaintances often shared about how they felt I was being primed for eventual caretaker of my family as is often custom in some cultures. I then became even more rebellious in my teen years often butting heads with my mother who had her hands full co-raising her eight kids and expected me to take on more chores and help with my siblings. It was a tough time for all of us. Eventually, I left home at sixteen. But with that decision and action came other problems. Since then, I believe in and firmly understand the old adage, “out of the frying pan into the fire.”

We spent about a decade going back and forth in a tug of war while I sorted things out. During this time, I tried to figure out who I was in all this mess. A mess I felt I had created by not knowing what was expected of me. Thankfully, something amazing happened in my mid-20s. I decided it was more important to me to have a relationship with my mom who I loved very much and appreciated all her sacrifices over the years than it was to be right about anything we were disagreeing about.

There were three things which I’ve determined saved our relationship. My mom was so important to me that I learned to let go of the things I couldn’t change, to forgive our many, many misunderstandings, and to put myself in her shoes. I wanted to know how she grew up, the things she faced in life that brought her to this point in our life together, and how she viewed life and motherhood. Once I became a mother myself, I suddenly and truly grasped all that she had gone through in a loveless marriage to love me and to keep all her children together. We spent many hours writing letters back and forth between South Texas and Northwest Washington. I’m sure we kept the postal service in operation for many years to come, lol.

Today, living a little less than three hours away from one another, we are as close as we can be maternally. We enjoy a relationship where we love, love, love each other and share in laughter and humor as much as possible. Every once in a while we go down memory lane, but only to tell and share our stories, not to try to outdo each other. We have learned over the years that we each have a different perspective of life and the experiences which brought us together not once (in birth) not twice (in reconnection) but thrice (in motherhood) when I myself became a mother, too.

Being a mother and grandmother has brought me a special joy and a different perspective of motherhood I would never have if I hadn’t been blessed with a son, daughter-in-love, and two grandchildren. I am forever grateful that life, and God, has given me the opportunity to be and live bigger than myself. It’s quite humbling as a human, especially when we realize that it is in helping one another be and experience our best lives rather than trying to make someone into who we thought they should be. My mother at 15, 25, or 35 is not the same, kind, thoughtful person she is now at 77. Where once stood a stressed, overly tired, and uncertain person struggling to be a good mom now stands (or I should say sits) a great-grandmother who has seen more life through her children’s and grandchildren’s eyes than she could ever think possible.

I am just beginning, and at the age I am today, that is saying a lot. Thankfully, when a person loves to learn and keeps striving for love, joy, and connection, relationships will survive the pitfalls of life. Whether we are viewing life through the eyes of motherhood or daughterhood, we can reach that point where the past is the past, the present is where it’s at, and the future will yet to be seen.

Wherever you are in your relationship with your mother, whether she is still living or now passed on into the next world, I pray you can or have given her grace. Let her rest in the knowledge that giving birth to you mattered and that every other thing she tried to give you: love, shelter, understanding, protection, joy, the ability to stand on your own two feet, and more, is appreciated. She may have succeeded in some areas, and she most certainly probably failed in others, but whatever she did, she was doing the best she could in that moment of humanness.

I am forever grateful for all that my momma did in her life for me. I am so lucky to have her, a mom who has supported me in my dreams even when I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, a mom who was ready with ideas when I was seeking her advice – and humor when she had no ideas, and a mom who has loved me enough to let me be the me that I am meant to be – as a person and as a mother. She is my heart, my love, my home, and my friend – for always.

Love & hugs, Virg