Not sure why it’s taken me forever to realize that my besties are my two hearts. When I think about my relationship with my actual friends (even my sisters), we can go days, even weeks without texting, and months without seeing each other. However, with my two, we talk everyday all day long. Maybe not verbally, but via texts… well, my daughter and I do. My son chimes in every now and then. He’d rather FaceTime. Now that they’re grown, they’ve become my best friends. I guess I’m their Mother-Friend.🙃 Thanking God for blessing me with friends I didn’t know I would need.
This is us. My daughter just left to head home. This is my first time feeling sad about her leaving. I wasn’t ready for her to go.😔
I would advise my teenage self to extend grace to my mother. Understand that although she is a mother, she’s human, too. She wants to be loved, respected, and appreciated, just like you. She’s had her heart broken more times than you know, but she always manages to recover—at least outwardly. You will later learn the toll it took on her mentally, emotionally, and physically. Give her hugs. Tell her you love her. Buy her little gifts. Write her notes. Love on her because one day, she’ll be gone, and you will wish that you had done all those things throughout your relationship, not just the last few months of her life.
This post has been in my drafts since January 8, 2022. I wrote it for another blog, but can’t locate the link. Glad I saved it here. This was my mother.
Title: Momma, I See You
I was born to a teenage mother, who was born to a teenage mother, who was born to a teenage mother. Yep.. three generations of teen moms. My mother was 14 years old when she became pregnant with me and 15 when she gave birth. What’s ironic is my grandmother was also pregnant. Not only was she about to birth her eighth child at 30, but she was also about to become a first time grandmother. Can you imagine being 30 years old with eight children and your first grandchild on the way? Oh… and my great grandmother, my grandmother’s mom, had 12 children at the time and she was only 43. Y’all, I’m 47 with two children. Had my first child at 21 and my second at 30. Just thinking about what it must have felt like being a teenage mother is unimaginable, let alone having multiple children and grandchildren by the age of 30.
Well, a few years ago, during one of my mom’s frequent visits to the emergency room, I thought about what it must have felt like to be responsible for another life at such a young age. When I arrived at the hospital, she was in so much pain. Every time the nurses touched her she moaned. I wanted to help but couldn’t. Finally the doctor gave her something to ease the pain and she fell asleep. I didn’t leave. I just sat there watching her sleep. Honestly, it was like watching a stranger. The person I saw lying there wasn’t the loud, strong, opinionated woman I knew. This woman was vulnerable, tired, and broken. That’s when it hit me that she was so much more than my mother, she was a woman.
While sitting there, I began reminiscing about my childhood and the sacrifices she had made for me and my five siblings. She always made sure our needs were met even if she had to go without. When I was a baby, she worked in the cotton fields to buy me clothes and pampers. She married a man twice her age, and endured abuse, so that she could support me. By the time she divorced him two years later, she had another little girl to support. Although she had two toddlers, she graduated from high school early and enrolled in college. At 18 she was walking the campus of Jackson State University with two in tow. I still remember attending night classes with her when she couldn’t find a babysitter. During that time she was always learning something new as well as introducing us to new things. For me, that was the most exciting time of my childhood. Also, she was no stranger to hard work. Throughout my childhood, I don’t ever remember hearing her complain about taking on second jobs or not being able to take off for vacations. She did what she had to do to provide for her family. I remember how one year she walked miles to work in the snow, while pregnant with one of my younger sisters. One day she slipped and fell and still went to work. That’s how dedicated and selfless she was. Although she experienced heartaches, disappointments, and abuse, we rarely saw her cry. She was the rock of the family.
Needless to say, by the time I left the hospital I was a changed woman. I saw my mom through a different lens. Not only her but my grandmother and great grandmother as well. I often wonder what kind of sacrifices and compromises did they have to make to ensure their children had everything they needed.
Listen, like most mother-daughter relationships, my mother and I have had our ups and downs. However, it wasn’t until I put myself in her shoes that I was able to better understand some of her experiences and decisions. I will admit that the woman she was throughout my childhood made me the woman I am today, and for that, I’m grateful.
The months I spent with her before she passed were a blessing I didn’t know I needed. I needed that time with her. Even though it was like caring for a child at times, I still knew I was hers. So many times I wanted to climb up in the hospital bed with her.
My momma…
She made us take pictures that day (June 1997). She just had to have a family photo even though we weren’t dressed for one.😅We were so unserious. But it was her day, and there was no way we weren’t going to comply. She was still Momma! We also took pictures with my grandma (her mom). About a couple of weeks later, my grandma suddenly died. The following year, my mom became paralyzed from the waist down.
Life can change in the blink of an eye. Make sure you cherish every moment with those you love.♥️
As I said three years ago, “You are the gift.” The most valuable gift you could possibly give is yourself. Your presence and essence are irreplaceable. It’s YOU that’s wanted and needed. Yes, it’s YOU.
You weren’t there the night Jesus found me. You did not feel what I felt when He wrapped his loving arms around me. And you don’t know the cost of the oil. Oh, you don’t know the cost of my praise. You don’t know the cost of the oil in my alabaster box.
Only God knows the cost of my oil and praise. Forever grateful. I’m truly blessed.
It’s Shaun’s World 
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