No one remembers being born.
No one remembers the womb and all the love that they swam in.
It’s almost Mothers Day.
A day set aside to celebrate the woman that bore us, birthed us, raised us.
I am lucky when it comes to my mom. All my friends wanted her.
She calls everyone “baby” and “sweetie”.
She has a childlike innocence that has never gone away.
She sees good in absolutely everyone.
I have said before that it wouldn’t surprise me at all to see a cartoon blue bird land on her shoulder and sing.
I know there are people that wonder if its real.
Yes, her wonder is what drives her.
She can stand amazed at anything.
She oohs and aaas, just like a kid over things most people never notice.
It wouldn’t be far off to say she prayed me into existence.
She had been wanting a baby for years.
My mom had been pregnant six years before, but the baby died in the ninth month.
The doctor didn’t take it for a few weeks.
In 1963 what kind of medicine was that? She actually saw her stomach shrinking.
She delivered a still born that according to dad had blonde curly hair.
Her name was Andrea.
My mom had all those mothering hormones and no baby to cradle.
She hugged lamp post and street signs and brought home foster children.
And then at thirty with Jeff, age ten and the twins eight, I came in.
She wanted to name me Angel, dad named me Jennifer while she was still out from the happy gas.
He named all of us that way.
She said she had a hard time putting me down. I napped on her shoulder.
The older kids rarely held me. She was too afraid they’d hurt me.
She was too afraid to lose another baby.
I am sure this is why we are so bonded.
Dad wouldn’t let my crib in their room, so I went into Jesses’.
I am sure this is why he and I are so bonded as well.
Most nights mom would come and check on me and Jesse would have lifted me out and I was sound asleep in his bed.
I actually slept in his room for years.
This illness had taken its toll on her.
She doesn’t assert herself or insert herself.
She has watched from the sidelines for a lot of this.
She is always there when I need to talk, or cry or vent.
She stays away when I need space to breath and breakdown.
She has seen me fall and not get up.
She has seen me so weak I couldn’t stand.
She has fed me, held me and rubbed my bald head.
We had a song when I was little.
It is by Helen Reddy and its called “You and Me Against the World”.
I cannot listen to it without crying.
For so many years of my childhood it was just us.
All alone in the big house, waiting for dad to finish a session in the House of Representatives, or come home from his oil fields or his office in town.
The older kids off to college or married in their own homes.
We took off one Summer and moved to Williamsburg,Virginia.
Lived right in Colonial Old Town. Just because.
We also took off one night ,years later when a boy broke my heart and without plan or purpose, went to Colorado.
Started at Colorado Springs and drove onto Boulder. That’s how we decided to live there after the inevitable divorce.
Mom was open to anything and anyone. Still is.
So how do you celebrate a whole life of service and support in one day?
Does Hallmark even have that card?
Last year on Mothers Day, she had to work and I was too sick to have her over.
I feel bad about that.
This year we’ll have hamburgers and I’ll buy her flowers.
She’ll like that.
jenlancaster on Try Again Barbara Jones on Try Again jenlancaster on Try Again Gale Parker on Try Again
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