The story of us…
When my mom was the very same age as I am today, her tummy was enlarged with the expectancy of an unexpected little girl. Looking back over our shoulders now, she was only just a child herself, and faced the brutal reality of raising one.
They say that the bond of mother and child is one of the strongest forces known to woman, and that this inexplainable connection begins at the first moments of pregnancy. My mom, just an eighteen year old girl, carefree and fun-loving, made a decision that would affect the rest of life as she knew it. She decided to sacrifice her life and dreams to bring another life with it’s own dreams into this world.
Here I am, years later, full of hopes and more dreams than I know what to do with, and am blown away at the sacrifice an eighteen year old girl, just like myself made in order to become a mother, and not just any mother, but the best one.
With it being mother’s day on Sunday, I have been reflecting on the unique road my mom and I have walked. When I was just a tot, the three of us (mom, dad and baby Jess) didn’t have so much as two coins to rub together but were living proof that money doesn’t buy happiness.
Life was a new experience for us both. For me, I was being taught how to walk, talk and pronounce people’s names through my lisp, whilst my mom on the other hand, was learning the art of being somebody’s mother. In a sense, we both grew up together. She matured as she left her teenage years with a lot more baggage than she started them, and I grew a little taller each month whilst learning cool new skills like the art of using crayons and spoons.
Before we had the luxury of owning a car, mom and I would ride the bus to school (or walk if we missed it) where I would paint her pictures and make her mothers day cards every year, many of which we still have stored away.
She would cook me my favourite meals (a.k.a pasta and sauce), always make sure I was spoilt rotten on Christmas and easter, and always let me snuggle up next to her when I was afraid of the dark. As I got older, our relationship went to a new level of friendship, we began to share clothes and shoes, often fighting like sisters over “what belongs to who” (something we still do often), as well as being there for eachother as somebody to laugh with or somebody to cry with.
I owe so many of my best memories to my mother dear who has given me one pretty darn good life, never lacking in love and lots of laughter. She’s been there through the heartbreaks, she’s been there through the tough decisions, she’s been my number one fan, always encouraging and supporting me, whilst giving me one of the best gifts a person could be given; freedom. Freedom to choose, freedom to be me, and freedom to follow what is on my heart.
I hope that one day when it’s time for me to become a mother, that I will be half the mom that mine has been to me.
I love you mom, thank you for you.
This is a photo of my mom's mom (far right). A little look at motherhood through the generations.
Mom and I leaving the hospital
When there were just three
Christmas day spoils
I was given her eyes
Cape Town adventures