Dear Children,
When you were babies, on more than one occasion I looked around the room and whispered, “Where is your mother? I really do need her.” What I meant was, “Where is my mother… I don’t know how to do this.” Surely, mothers in other cultures don’t find themselves in such a lonely predicament of nuclear parenting outside of extended family. But there I was, and with your help, I eventually grew into your mother. For better or worse, you taught me as we went along.
I promised to do everything in my power to be a good mommy. God knows, carrying a child in one’s womb for nine months or reading a pile of books or blog posts does not prepare us to care for a tiny human being, or to pass 4th grade math, and certainly not for the agonizing lesson of relinquishing a child when the time comes.
Always your biggest fan, I made out like a bandit while others did much of the heavy lifting. Daddy got you through the hard days of itchy chicken pox and tummy aches, mornings to school, lunch money and laptops; and your teachers, coaches and other parents formed you and fed you too. Thank goodness. My only regret was my own imbalance, for time spent–not working, but over-working–in order to prove that I was valuable and contributing my fair share to the finances.
Following the generation of women before me who labored hard to birth a new era of vocation and career equality for women, I passionately took up the baton. I love working, negotiating deals, creating with others, architecting and designing what did not previously exist. Work has its rewards, but you kids, you have always been unequivocally my delight. You are my greatest prize. When other mothers carried tired, worn out expressions pulling at their faces; mine was alight with pleasure. I feasted on your laughter and wit; I drank you in. I still do. I dream for you. And when I get to be with you, all the planets align, and I know joy. God reveals perfect and unconditional Love through my affections for you. An ancient scripture says, “Her children will rise up and call her ‘blessed…’” but you don’t have to, I already am.
Love Mama
