Dear Mom,

This is the only picture I have of just us. I don’t remember it being taken. I don’t remember a lot- mostly by choice. The things I do remember will likely haunt me for the rest of my life. Questions gone unanswered and memories that don’t make sense. We used to be so close when I was growing up, I never imagined your life would take the turn it did. When I moved away to college we would talk every week. My visits home made me see a side of you I didn’t notice when I was living there- I ignored it. My wedding was like the beginning of the end for us. I tried to figure out what was going on with you and couldn’t- so I ignored it. When my first born arrived and you left that message on the machine, deep down I think I knew then what I know now- but I ignored it. We used to talk everyday on my way home from work. Every single day. I used to beg you to come and visit your grandson and see our new house, and then one day- you stopped returning my calls. Pretty soon it was weeks before I would hear from you. I remember being so confused and hurt- feeling like I had done something and didn’t know how to fix it. Of course, I know differently now. When my second son was born I remember rocking him to sleep one night and memories of my childhood came rushing in….fast. They startled me so much I put him in his crib and left the room. I started realizing suddenly that our life wasn’t what I thought it was. When I started asking you questions- you built a wall so high that it would take me years to knock it down -if I even had the energy to try. Our relationship became cordial. You stopped calling all together and I felt myself feeling free of something I didn’t fully understand. When I got the phone call after your surgery that cancer was in more places than suspected I knew I had to figure out the pieces to the puzzle quickly. But you weren’t willing….and honestly, I don’t think you were able. I think your illness, and I am not speaking of the cancer, owned you at that point. You became someone I had never met. Shortly after, when my daughter was born, I had an amazing experience. I looked into her eyes as she grasped my hospital gown and I knew I wanted so much more for her than what I had. She needed a mother. My three kids needed a mother. I made the choice to be done with my past and focus on my children – my family. My family. The thing I have wanted my whole life. Here it was right in front of me and I chose them, my family. Your anger, your wrath, and the fear you put into me I won’t ever be able to forget. I will never understand what made you choose the way you did. I don’t even remember the last time you said you loved me and I believed it. I never envisioned myself reading from the Bible, Psalm 23, to a phone with you on the other end not able to respond. As a child I thought you’d be my best friend forever the one who protected me, was always on my side, and would never leave me. I was never prepared for this reality. The wind was blowing and the sun was out when I kissed my hand and laid it on your casket. My God stood beside me that day while everyone walked away out of the cold. It was over. I was an orphan. I had no home to ever go home to again. My Savior surrounded me and reminded me that I was a Child of the King. I was a wife, a parent, a sister, a friend. I was blessed. I watched my hometown disappear in the rearview mirror and I drove towards the pink and orange sunset in front of me that night. I was mesmerized by the combines on either side of the road. Life was going on all around me and I just couldn’t grasp all that had happened. And I couldn’t wait to get home to my own babies. To be the Mother I always dreamed you could be. -Jennifer

1978, I was two and a half

Dear Daughter,

I have been your mom for almost five years now. Can you believe that? In many ways I don’t remember our life without you. You have brought so much to this family. (No matter what the boys tell you- they adore you). I am your mom. You are my daughter. It seems to me that it would be logical that I am the teacher in this relationship. However, since your birth we have tossed logic out the door. You are my teacher, and I am so thankful. I watch you, you know. I watch you play with more joy for life than your body can contain. I watch you love your father in a way I have never experienced. I watch you admire your brothers. I watch you learn new things with determination and stubbornness. I watch you sleep with peace. It’s like watching myself with new eyes. As I watch you I have sympathy for my parents- they missed out on so much joy. Sometimes- I feel sorry for little three year old me. I see you cry over something so trivial and I can’t imagine three year old me having such small things to be sad over. It’s such a mix of emotions watching you grow. You have healed parts of me that I didn’t think could ever heal. You and your tiny fierce self have given me the chance that no one else could. I have the chance for a mother-daughter relationship that I have longed for my whole life. You know me better than I know myself.

A few months ago, I went to check on you in your bed. I covered you up and shut off the reading light as you slept. You suddenly seemed so big. So I whispered, “Please stop growing up- stay little.” At that point, you rolled over and whispered back, “I can’t….you need a mom. When I grow up I will be your mom.” I left your room wondering if you would ever realize how amazing your heart was. As we draw close to your fifth birthday this is the topic of many conversations. I tell you I don’t want you to grow up- you tell me I need a mom and you have to grow up. We both smile and move on to the next topic. I don’t know how long this will be part of our conversations, but I do know it has given me peace to know that when I don’t understand what I am feeling – you do. I know you roll your eyes every time I say, “Pssst” and you turn to me and say, “Mom…I know….I know…you love me. You don’t have to tell me.” I love that. I love that I don’t have to tell you. It doesn’t mean I will ever stop telling you. It just means you never have to wonder.  My daughter, I promise I will do my best to be the mom I want you to remember.

All my love,

Mom

Mother’s Day, 2014