Things were getting a little too intense in the delivery room. I remember the night before thinking, “Please don’t scream. Don’t show weakness.” But in that moment, the pain was so excruciating I felt as if I was being pulled apart.
So this is what it must have felt like in medieval times when they strapped people to a rack. Forget the torture methods of the past; if the government needs information from a captive, just let them experience the agony of childbirth.
My hopes for a serene labor evaporated in an instant.
I howled.
When my daughter finally made her grand entrance, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, only to be hit with a terrifying realization: Silence. No sweet baby cries.
Then, a thought crossed my mind: My baby is gone. I failed. My body failed.
As the nurses rushed to attend to her tiny form, I overheard one say, “Doctor, can you come here?” My heart sank further. Something was wrong.
And then, out of nowhere, a soft whimper followed by a full-blown cry. It was like a miracle. Stars aligned, angels sang, you get the picture.
Tears streamed down my face as the doctor looked at me with surprise and said, “It’s okay. She’s okay.”
“I know,” I replied, “That’s why I’m crying. I’m happy.”
Fast forward ten months, and as we gear up for my daughter’s first birthday, I can hardly believe how quickly time has flown. Honestly, I never really knew what I wanted to be when I grew up—until I became a mom.
My daughter is my everything. She is my greatest achievement.
When she’s being a handful, I remind myself that this is just the tip of the iceberg. Not eating her veggies is the least of my worries. Fast forward to the teenage years when she’ll be yelling, “I hate you!” because we won’t let her attend some coed sleepover, or she’ll cringe at the thought of being seen with me at the mall—her totally embarrassing mom asking way too many questions. She won’t giggle at my silly faces or revel in the joy of my tickles. Hugs? Forget about it.
Reflecting on my teenage rebellion, I can’t help but think of how my own mom must have felt. It’s only recently that I began to grasp all she did for my brother and me. I remember her tirelessly balancing work, household chores, and our activities, only to collapse into an armchair each night, utterly wiped out. I never understood why she was always so exhausted.
I’ve learned that the fatigue never truly goes away; it’s just part of the deal as a working mom. Every night, my partner and I collapse into bed and breathe a sigh of relief, silently acknowledging, “We made it through another day.”
I’m tired, but I’ve never been happier. It’s the incredible, selfless nature of motherhood. We’d go to the ends of the earth for our kids, time and again, fueled by a deep, unconditional love that allows us to endure and keep loving no matter what.
Regardless of how my daughter views her childhood or me as a mother, I’ll always strive to do my best. I’ll be the one who loves her endlessly and protects her fiercely.
So, I need to say this: I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for assuming that your life revolved solely around being a mother, as if that was your only identity. I’m sorry for all the times I shut you out and rejected your hugs. For not being there when you needed support. For not recognizing how hard you always worked. And most of all, I’m sorry it took me over thirty years to truly understand. Thank you.
Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for your sacrifices. Thank you for instilling in me the values of hard work, kindness, and generosity. Thank you for being the greatest example of motherhood I could ever ask for.
I may not have this whole mom thing figured out yet, but I’m taking it one day at a time. I’ll keep loving and doing my best—because that’s what moms do.
For more insights on pregnancy and motherhood, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination, or visit our blog for more tips on navigating motherhood.
Summary
In a heartfelt letter to her mother, Jamie reflects on the challenges and joys of motherhood, recognizing the sacrifices made by her own mom. As she navigates life with her young daughter, Jamie expresses gratitude and apologies for taking her mother’s efforts for granted. This emotional journey offers insights into the complexities of parenthood and the unconditional love that binds mothers and their children.