What is a mother truly made of? I never really considered that thought about my own mother until lately. I guess, as sad as it may be, sometimes we don’t think of these things until this figure is in distress. A couple of days ago, I stood at the bedside of my mother and started to really think about this.
I stood there holding her hand and she didn’t even know I was there. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even know who I was. I won’t go into detail, but lets just say she has been thru an awful lot these past 8 months. I have lost count of how many hospital visits and ER runs and times she’s been poked and prodded or operated on.
Why do we wait until moments such as these before we ask ourselves this important question of what the person suffering really means to us? Also, why did I allow all those small petty things in life to distract me from who she really is and what she really means to me? Setting all that aside, let me tell you a little about this person I call mom.
My mother, like so many other mothers, is the strong one. She’s the one who never fails, to be there when you get hurt, physically or emotionally. She’s the one who comforts and takes care of you when you are sick. The one who losses sleep, worries every minute, and never allows the thought and care of their own children to cease from her mind.
As I sit at her side through hospital visits, doctor appointments, etc. I realize how strong this woman really is. Her only hospital stays in her past were when she gave birth to her 5 babies. She’s cooked, cleaned, bathed, nursed, taxied, clothed, and had sleepless nights worrying…sometimes all at the same time, and for years of her life.
So as I hold her hand, wipe her forehead, rub her arm, hug her tightly, or just walk by her side. I remember this woman as not only my mother but my inspiration and my hero. This woman is so strong, so loving, and so caring. This woman is my mom and I am so proud to call her that.
I hope those of you young and old, who read this today, remember your own mother. Remember her love, her care, and her strength. Don’t take her for granted. Don’t wait till you stand at her bedside some day, like I, to realize all of this.
My mother is strong and she will overcome all of her battles, I know it! But I refuse to allow her to have to do this alone. It’s my turn to hold her, nurse her, cook for her, and repay her for all those days of worry. When all of this is done and mom has healed, I plan to continue to hold that hand and repay her for her love.