Hey Momma,
This is my first MOTHER’S DAY, without you here on the earth. I am deeply moved by how hard this day has been for me.
This is the first year that I have not been able to hug your neck, tell you I love you and say: “Thanks for being my momma.”
When you were only 17 years old, you found out you were pregnant with me. “I had to quit the drill team when I got pregnant with you,” is what you always told me.
As a young girl, I never gave it a thought what you were saying when you shared with me what you gave up as a teenager––to be my mom.
I remember how I felt the first time you shared with me how your own mother had pressed you to have an abortion, but you refused. But, it never occurred to me what courage it would have taken for you to stand up to your mom––to decide to become a teenaged mother.
I remember you told me about the day I was born. You said you were alone in your hospital room holding me. And as I was crying unconsolably––so were you. How overwhelmed you must have been.
My favorite part of that story is when you shared with me how at that very moment, a woman you had never met happened by your room. Whoever this kind woman was, she stopped, entered your room, and began to speak kind and encouraging words to you.
And then, as the story goes, you said the woman took me in her arms, and began to pray for me––and for you. You couldn’t remember what the woman had prayed, only that her kindness and prayers brought you peace.
Oh how I wish I could thank this woman for being the arms and words of Jesus to you––at such a vulnerable time. And for praying for me as well.
You and I grew up together, mom. You fought with your kids more like a sibling than a parent. You pretended to be a grown up––when I looked to you for answers.
As an adolescent, I remember thinking, “She should have it all together, after all she’s a mom.”
Never considering the reality that you had recently been an adolescent yourself.
You never read books about parenting. You never went to parenting classes, or sought out godly mentors. You just worked really hard to be the mom you wanted to be. And, when you messed up you didn’t give up—on yourself, or on me.
Only after I became a mother did it dawn on me how young you had been when you became a mom. And, only then did I realize how much you sacrificed to raise me––and my siblings.
With fresh new eyes—a mother’s eyes—I found a new respect for you, and the price you paid to become my mom. After that realization, I made it a point every year on my birthday and on Mother’s Day to thank you for having me––and raising me.
Four short months ago I sat at your bedside––for the last time. I thanked you for being my momma––for the last time.
And in your final hours I was incredibly moved to hear each of my children tell you how much they love you, and thank you for having me––their mom. It was then that it occurred to me; non of my precious kids would exist had you not determined to have me, so many years ago.
I almost felt like I was watching a clip from the movie It’s a Wonderful Life.
