Day 34
mom
When my kids were very little they called me “mama.” That was my favorite. So endearing, so precious sounding. This eventually morphed into “mom” with various pre-adolescent inflections as they turned eleven and twelve. My daughter called me “mother,” and still occasionally does, in a kind of half endearing, half mocking tone that is so incredibly her and so does not offend me. I definitely don’t feel like a Mother; that’s a status I feel is more deserved by women like my own mother who had five children and gave so much of her life to mothering. Sadly, I also don’t feel much like a mama. The term that has replaced that in my life is “auntie.” As an auntie I am still loved in that way that only the very young can love, and it keeps me warm.
“Mom” works. It is what I feel I am, to my two grown children. I’m just “mom.” Loved, but also a little dismissed. Which is exactly what they should be doing right now; dismissing me.
It strikes me as ironic, that we mostly think of moms as being experts in attachment. In fact, we must begin letting go from the moment our children come into the world. “Mom” is just another way of saying woman-who-is-learning-to-let-go. This is hard sometimes, but like all letting go, it is also a gift.
