My family has been watching the series "Life" on the Discovery Channel. The more I have watched, the more I can relate to those animals whose lives and behaviors have been captured so beautifully on film. No matter the species, the theme of motherhood is universal.
I was moved to tears watching the strawberry poison dart frog, the size of a postage stamp, carry each one of her tadpoles one by one up a one hundred foot tree to safety.
I was mesmerized by the octopus, who after laying her eggs, settled in to protect them for the rest of her life. Keeping a constant vigil on her babies, she eventually starves to death.
Perhaps I most identified with the young elephant who had just given birth. When her baby became stuck in a mud pit, she tried unsuccessfully to save him. Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, her mother became frustrated and knocked the young mother out of the way with her trunk. Then she effortlessly rescued her grandchild from the treacherous mud pit.
With the exception of a brief rebellious period, I have always been close to my mother. Our bond became stronger when I became a mother myself. She has been a hands-on grandmother (lovingly called "Mimi" by my boys) since day one. When I went into labor with my first child and realized what horrible, excruciating, agony I was about to endure, I attempted to get into the bathtub, as suggested in our prenatal classes. Unable to even lift my leg over the side of the tub, I laid down on the bathroom floor. I yelled to my husband through clenched teeth, "CALL MY MOTHER!!"
I still have the memory of her, walking down my hallway, swinging her metaphorical trunk, knocking Michael out of the way to pick me up off of the floor. I remember her calling out, "Okay Michael, if you are going to take her to the hospital, she's going to need some clothes!!"
Now that I am up to my neck in the mud pit of parenthood, my mom isn't trying to pull me out. She doesn't need to... I am happy here. Instead, like the devoted octopus, she has opted to jump in with us. There have been times when she has shown up at our door with the milk and bread that we so desperately needed, overdrawing her own bank account in the process. She was by my side when my boys and I were diagnosed with Noonan Syndrome a year and a half ago. She has traveled with me to Johns Hopkins appointments for the boys more times than I can count. She held my hair when I threw up as my husband drove us home from my hernia surgery a few months ago. And, she'll be there tomorrow, when I call to tell her I have made another blog entry. (She was my first follower.)
I consider myself very fortunate. I am fortunate just to still have my mom, but I am most fortunate to appreciate her and to already value the time I spend with her. Although I can't imagine life without her, I know that day may come. So I attempt to incorporate the lessons that she has taught me into the way that I parent my boys.
As I struggle to carry my boys safely up the tree of life, I know that my mom is behind me to give me a nudge when I slip. And knowing that she is there makes the climb so much easier to make.
