I am knee-deep in the age at which I thought my mother knew everything.
I remember how much I wanted to be her someday.
Parting seas for my children, leading them through the toughest of paths.
Of course she had a map and life preservers, a perfectly stocked first aid kit and the most comfortable places for us to land.
I asked her every question that ever tickled my brain and she answered, with unwavering confidence.
Through the twinkling eyes of my childhood, she new all.
And now, as I wade through the questions my children ask, the boo-boos and hiccups of their little lives, I try to do the same.
I offer answers to everything from when will it rain? to where should I put my back pack after lunch?
And it occurs to me,
I really have no idea.
But I answer them anyway.
I tell them it will stop raining after dinner and to leave the backpack in the corner and their waiting faces relax, content once again.
I hold their hands through quivering lips and skinned knees and lullaby-away nighttime fears, hoping that I am keeping us all afloat.
And it is now that I have figured it out.
There is a chance she didn’t know it all either, that she stumbled through our questions and held the map of motherhood upside down once in a while.
But through the waves of childhood we all thought her the perfect captain.
And I still call to her over my shoulder each day, in an effort to right my ship.
Happy Mother’s Day to my mom and all of the amazing moms out there.
and p.s. if you know someone out there who has suffered a miscarriage or stillbirth or neonatal loss and is left with empty arms this Mother’s Day, make sure you let her know that you are thinking of her today, and that she is still a mommy, whether her children are here to tell her so or not.
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