He’s four years old now, and just celebrated his very first Mother’s Day.
I think I’m pretty typical when it comes to motherhood. I often find myself worrying that I’m not doing enough, that I don’t measure up, and that I frequently fall short. There have been countless days filled with guilt and a sense of inadequacy, caught in the endless tug-of-war between work and home life. I’ve bought into the notion that I’m lacking in the motherhood department.
Let’s be honest—my culinary skills are nothing to brag about. My children would probably say their favorite dish from me is something they whimsically call “Ramen Surprise.” And while kids under 18 might find it delightful, I doubt many adults would appreciate it. I’ve been known to skip paragraphs in a bedtime story, mainly because if I have to read “Green Eggs and Ham” more than twice a week, I start losing my mind. Sometimes I even catch myself reciting the lines in a silly sing-song voice during my shifts as a nurse, which can be confusing for my patients.
There are days when I realize I haven’t even unpacked my kids’ backpacks for days, which means I’m just flying by the seat of my pants. When I say “winging it,” I mean relying on my kids to remind me of their field trips or themed hair days. Spoiler alert: it usually doesn’t end well, especially if they show up to school with hair that looks like it survived a tornado. And yes, I’ve been known to thank the heavens for school when it rains for the third consecutive day. I’ve carried these feelings of inadequacy and constantly worried that I’m falling short. Scrolling through social media just adds to the comparison game, especially with six kids in tow.
This year was Israel’s first Mother’s Day, and believe me, I felt the weight of that moment. Lately, I’ve been feeling less inadequate. Israel is teaching me what it truly means to be a mother. Although he was born with legs that don’t work, his heart beats fiercely for me. I am his world, and the moment I walk into the room or wake him up, his face lights up and his arms reach out for me.
Through Israel, I’ve come to understand that motherhood isn’t about perfection or reaching a predefined destination. He’s slowly showing me what a mother truly looks like. It’s a beautiful revelation, especially since Israel has no prior concept of what a mother is. What does a mother look like to a child who has never known one? What does she smell like, feel like? What does her embrace convey?
For four years, Israel sat alone, without anyone to warm him when he was cold, kiss his scrapes, or wipe away his tears. He learned to endure cold, silence, and the absence of affection. The smells around him were antiseptic and stale, not the comforting scents of home-baked cookies or fresh air. Instead, he was surrounded by the harsh reality of his environment, where love was a commodity earned rather than freely given.
But Israel has shown me that being a mother is wonderfully simple. I kiss his boo-boos, dry his tears, and keep him warm. I’m the protective gaze that watches over him, the voice that encourages him when he feels overwhelmed. I’m the comforting scent of laundry detergent mixed with the freshness of the outdoors. My love for him is unconditional, offered without prerequisites—because a mother loves her child for who they are, not who they might become.
Despite never having had a mother, Israel is defining what a mother means to him. Each night, I tuck him into bed, and our routine is heartwarming. He pats his pillow and asks, “Mommy, night, night?” I lie down beside him, with our faces close, and he inquires, “Israel’s mommy?” as his tiny fingers gently caress my cheeks. His eyes search mine, filled with questions about security and love. He wraps his arms around my neck, and I hold him close, inhaling the sweet scent of baby wash mixed with his breath. I reassure him once more: “Yes, my sweet boy, I’m Israel’s mommy, and I am enough.”
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In summary, motherhood is a journey defined not by perfection but by love, connection, and the simple acts of care we give each day. My son’s experience has shaped my understanding of what it means to be a mother, and it is a beautiful lesson in unconditional love.