Mother's Day Reflections

A few weeks ago I celebrated my first Mother's Day with the baby. I remember the first Mother's Day while I was preggo and I wasn't sure if I was worthy of getting a free custard from a local company because I hadn't technically had the baby yet. This year I was so determined to get something for free because of being a mother and the many sleepless nights, roller coaster emotions, and everything else that goes along with being a mom. Yet the first Mother's Day was a rainy, dreary one, and we opted to not even leave the house.

There are many days where I just simply reflect about many things. I found out a story sometime within this past year about my own mother. It's funny, my parents do not often share stories about their life before I was born. And if they did, I must have a terrible memory because the truth of the matter is, I know so little about their life. There is such a huge age gap between myself and my brother and sister that I feel like there was a whole family history before I even entered the picture.

My parents worked very hard to provide for my brother, sister, and I. They worked tiredlessly in a family-owned business. They used to work for others in grocery stores, in factories-basically wherever they could find employment. They came to this country not knowing one word of English. They came without money. Yet all of the hard work was not without sacrifice. There were basically no family vacations. I took a vacation with them once, but my brother and sister were so much older that they didn't come with us. My mom and dad took separate vacations without the other because one of them had to run the family business.

And when I was little, there was no option for either one to stay at home with me when I was a little baby. My brother and sister often took care of me after they came home from school. During the day, while they were in school, my parents utilized friends to watch me. There were different friends of theirs who watched me and recently I learned that one night when my mom came to pick me up after the family business was closed for the evening, I was standing waiting by the door with my jacket on just waiting for her to come get me. I guess that night when my mom came home with me she cried. My mom is not one who shows her emotions often. We are so completely opposite in this regard. I cry very easily and am an emotional person, and she has such a tough exterior that sometimes I wonder how she can't show emotions. I'm sure it was tough for her to leave me knowing that the company I really wanted was my own mom and dad.

I think about these stories and about the family friends who cared for me while I was little. I wonder if I was difficult and fussy as a baby. I wonder what kinds of things I did that were funny or cute or if I had a temper as a baby. I wonder what kinds of thoughts my mom had about me when I was a baby. I do know that even though I'm grown now that a mother never truly stops being a mother.