As I stood in the kitchen, I noticed her. Her hair was unkempt, and she shifted nervously from one foot to the other, unsure of how to navigate this moment. Her brother had just overdosed the previous night. Her mother, a dear friend of mine, was drowning in grief, and I found myself in her kitchen, trying to bring some semblance of order by filling the fridge and clearing the surfaces. It felt like something to do amidst the chaos.
“I have no idea how to make lasagna,” she said, eyeing the pan I was sliding into the freezer.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. I can guide you,” I replied, starting to explain how to preheat the oven.
She cut me off, “I don’t know what to do next.”
I paused, taking in the fractured young woman beside me. “Sometimes, love, when life throws terrible things our way, there’s no next step. We just have to sit together in the discomfort.”
It struck me how much time had passed since I last saw this tall, 22-year-old. I had known her as a child, watching her grow up as she occasionally joined our girls’ nights. Now, she was a woman I hardly recognized. But in that moment, she was just a girl seeking maternal comfort, and somehow, she turned to me.
I gently brushed her hair back and held her hand as we stood side by side, motionless, while the oven beeped.
I began my journey of loving like a mother 16 years ago.
When Ethan was born after a grueling day of labor, I expected to feel an overwhelming surge of love and gratitude. Instead, I felt exhausted. That sense of disconnection lingered as the nurses brought him to me, and we dutifully went through the motions of care, but it felt like a play-acting scene. This wasn’t my baby; it felt unreal.
In the quiet hours of our last night in the hospital, I was pacing the halls with my IV stand when I heard a baby cry from the nursery. “That’s Ethan,” I thought, immediately chuckling at the absurdity. How could I recognize his cry after just meeting him? But on my next lap, a nurse came out with a bassinet.
“Mrs. Turner! I was just bringing your son to you. Ethan was crying, and I didn’t want him to disturb the others. He needs his mommy.”
And just like that, the mother in me awakened.
Years and several children later, I often mistakenly equate mothering with mundane tasks: carpools, filling out forms, and shouting reminders from downstairs. I sometimes reduce it to chores, labeling it with prefixes like single, divorced, or foster. I realize now that I’m mistaken. Those are merely the background noise of mothering.
True mothering transcends grocery lists and homework help. It manifests when a child needs profound, unconditional love. It appears when they seek a safe haven, a champion in their corner.
I’ve had the privilege of mothering a 13-year-old boy who had just come out to his devoutly religious family, facing their rejection. He was racked with guilt, fearing he had broken them. Ethan brought him home, and I made him a hearty meal, reminding him that love from parents remains, even when obscured by the details of life.
I’ve nurtured a 4-year-old girl who had endured the heartbreak of three foster homes. She had many struggles, including locking my baby Leo in a box and hiding him under the bed. Advocating for her needs was challenging, but for that period, I embraced the opportunity to be her mother, loving her fiercely.
Loving like a mother is not exclusive to me. My children’s mentors, teachers, stepmothers, grandmothers, and even their friends’ moms have all embraced them with maternal love. I’m certain I don’t even know half of the ways in which my children have benefited from the nurturing care of other mothers. It’s a strange feeling to walk around grateful for unseen acts of love.
This kind of love is not confined to biology, legal documents, or gender. It’s not limited by labels or qualifications. Loving like a mother is simply about the recipient of that affection. When you love someone unconditionally, in the way they need it most, you embody the essence of a mother. And the world is all the richer for it.
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Summary
This heartfelt reflection explores the essence of maternal love beyond biological connections, emphasizing the importance of unconditional support and nurturing in various forms. It highlights the transformative power of mothering, showing that love transcends traditional boundaries and takes many shapes in our lives.
Keyphrase: The essence of maternal love
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