The Other Mothers
Featured in the Dayton Daily News
Several years ago when my then teenage daughter’s ears were clogged with adolescent defensiveness, my attempts to “reach” her with sound advice fell on deafness. In lamenting, my sister offered to take my daughter to a coffee shop “just to catch up.” Afterwards, my daughter’s willingness to open up to more enlightenment felt like the warm winds of summer. I was so grateful for my sister and her relationship with my daughter. Bearing children is not a prerequisite of mothering, and biological thread provides a limited understanding of who is capable of offering the maternal guiding touch of the heart. Many women step in and out of our lives providing appliques of love to our life stories. They matter. The notations of “other mothers” provide a plethora of footnotes in our journey. The wonder of universal motherhood can begin with an infant who is rocked to sleep by the willing arms of woman who provides renewed energy for a fussy baby. A childcare provider who band-aids the scraped knee of a toddler while wiping away big tears gives definition to the experience of healing. My daughter’s first grade teacher hugged her each day as she entered the classroom. My little one was tearful and sad because she didn’t want to be away from home. This teacher’s motherly and tireless encouragement bridged an important phase of growth so that the beginning seeds of independence could sprout. My soccer-playing son traveled to tournaments often with other families whose mothers made sure he brought his shin guards and water bottle to the field. These moments mean something.
Adoptive mothers are heroes. In choosing their children, they give someone the opportunity to feel safe, secure and loved. My mother was adopted at the age of 5, and the lasting impact of her upbringing will transcend generations because she was given a chance to be part of a family. Yet her first years were spent in a New York City orphanage cared for by Catholic nuns. Although those years remained undefined until her death, one thing my mother knew for sure. These nuns loved her, because she felt it in the untapped places of her soul.
Sisters know how different eyes see the same landscape of shared history, providing the opportunity to offer a touch of encouragement or understanding mimicking the love of a mom. Good friends challenge and support by reinforcing the worth of someone who loses their way just like a loving mother would do. Whether from a sister, aunt, neighbor, friend or teacher, I celebrate mothering women. As we approach and celebrate our own mothers, let’s take a moment to remember those women who left an imprint in our hearts. It really does take a village. I am honored to share this Sunday with all those who give meaning to the definition of Mother. Happy Mother’s Day!