It took me 28 years to realize it, and a little longer still to admit it. I had to become a mom myself. I admit it today: Mom, you were right.
You used to say that I’d understand many things later on—feelings that only moms can feel. That you couldn’t wait to see us take your place.
In fact, how many times did I tell you that I’d never be the kind of mother you were? That I was convinced I’d certainly do better than you? I was wrong. It seems to me now that the bar is set pretty high. Back then, it seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing. You were confident, you had an answer for everything, whereas I…
That’s probably why you’re now the person I trust the most when it comes to my baby. You’re the one I wanted at home after I gave birth; it was your help that meant the most to me, and your presence that was the most reassuring—even more so than my own mother’s.
At first, it even seemed like my own baby was calmer with you. You were a calm presence; you were so relaxed, while we—new parents, with all our inexperience—were so stressed out. You knew that. It would pass; everything would fall into place.
I felt confident leaving my baby in your care because I knew he was in good hands. That you’d take care of him just as you’d taken care of me, that we were guided by the same values… because you’re my mom, because we share the same vision, the same principles.
Those same principles that drove me so crazy when I was young! I thought you were such a lousy mom! It seemed to me that all my friends’ moms were cooler than mine.
I understand now what a thankless role being a mom is. Tell me, how did you do it? How could you let us go out to bars? Let us fall flat on our faces? Let us get up to all our teenage nonsense? How did you survive our heartbreaks?
I know now that you were scared too, that you were just as hurt—if not more—than we were. How did you manage to accept having your heart broken so that we could learn to stand on our own two feet? How could you split your heart into three? That left you with three hearts on the loose, three hearts to watch over, three hearts to worry about, three hearts so vulnerable… I only have one, and I feel so fragile.
I’m really dreading the time when my kids are teenagers, when they’ll tell me I’m the worst mother in the world. But if you’re here to tell me it’ll pass, I know everything will be okay.
And we were too naive to realize it. I understand now. You must have a broken heart sometimes, too. The people you love most in the world will never love you the way you love them. I’ve found the true love of my life. But we’ll never be the love of their lives; our children will always love their own children more than their parents. It’s a little unfair, isn’t it?
If someone had asked me at 15 if I thought I’d ever say this… I would have laughed right in their face with all my teenage attitude. But… I’m saying it today: Mom, you were right.