Celebrating motherhood

The beautiful art of mothering has been passed down through the generations, for generations. My mother learnt from her mother, who learnt from hers, and so on. The breadth of mothering comes, however, not just through the family line, but from those all around us. Mothers of friends, neighbours you fondly call aunty, your godmother and your peers when you become a mother yourself. We also learn from mothers in TV shows, books, films and plays. From the very early stages of our lives, we soak up the gifts all these mothers give us. We grow to be who we are through their life lessons.

I am so very grateful for the mothers in my life, for their gentle guidance driven by unconditional love. For the stories they have shared with me, and for their journeys I have witnessed, which have played such a critical role in shaping me to be the person I am today. Grateful to the women who raised me, and the women who walk beside me. Teaching me such valuable lessons. Teaching me the importance of being over doing.

There wasn’t a long line of mothers for me to draw from in my family. We lived quite a distance from my mum’s family and so I didn’t see a lot of my grandmother or my aunty outside of Christmas holidays when we would make the long drive to the beach to spend time with them and make some of my most joyful memories. And my dad’s parents had died before I was born, and we didn’t see his sister, so the women on his side of the family were noticeably absent in my life. Perhaps this absence and distance were a driving force for me to savour the moments I had with my grandmother and aunty, and also to appreciate the numerous mother role-models around me.

But before I celebrate those, I need to acknowledge my own mother. A beautiful and very special person in my life. A woman who has taught me so much about caring for others, standing up for yourself, being joyful and being resilient. Ironically, two days after I had decided to write a blog post celebrating all the mothers in my life and how they shaped the kind of mother I am, I discovered my very own had become gravely ill. Thankfully, effective medical treatment, her will to live and the love of her family and friends has seen her recover. I am so grateful and I am so relieved.

My mum has always been a strong presence in my life. She is a strong woman. A nurse who juggled the demands of caring for many others alongside caring for her four growing children. A super organised woman, who ran a tight ship at home with clear rules and expectations. A home, which was full of warmth and laughter, her rigidity and rules softened by her deep love for us all. Mum taught me that you can get a lot done in a day, and what it means to be independent in your thinking, beliefs and actions. She gave us the gift of music, which she loved and played all day long as she cleaned the house, cooked dinner or got ready for work, singing her heart out in harmony with the record player.

My mum also taught me how to be vulnerable, the importance of boundaries and forgiveness. For this, I will be forever grateful. And she is always there to guide me, despite my age, despite the fact I am a mother myself. Her guidance and advice I cherish. And her journey in life continues to be a lesson for me, preparing me for the things to come as I age and follow my own path alongside her footsteps. My mum reminds me of what is important in life.

So too, have all the other mothers I have been blessed to have around me.

My grandmother taught me generosity of spirit as she spoilt us with home-made toffee and sat with us, telling us stories, imitating Tina Turner and making us laugh until our bellies and cheeks ached. My aunty taught me how to love life and enjoy the moment. As she drove her five children around to their various sporting activities in a old van, shouting abuse at other drivers with contradictory good will, I watched her from one of the middle seats, as I accompanied my cousins being taxied around, while visiting for the summer. I was always fascinated by her energy. How she simply embodied such joy. Nothing was too much. No one upset her.

My best friend’s mum taught me the value of friendship. Of her friendship with her daughter and me. Somehow she managed to be a mum but make the gap between adults and children disappear, to such a degree that we felt safely equal. She created a wonderful space for us as young teenagers to confide and seek advice without the fear of retribution or judgement. The woman who owned the bookstore I worked for, a mother of three beautiful children, taught me the delight of motherhood. She was, and still is, so full of love for her family. I watched her gently guide her children and celebrate them, hug them and deeply love them. There was such contentment in her mothering. Such glee. I was enchanted when I watched her.

My dearly beloved godmother, who was such a treasure to be with, taught me peace, and that there can never be too much food on the table. She knew how to hold space for others. She knew how to entertain. She knew how to simply be, no matter what came her way. And my best friend, she has taught me the power of positivity and the value of hope, of never giving up. She has taught me the depth of a mother’s love. She has shown me it is unending.

‘Behind all your stories, is always your mother’s story. Because hers are where yours begin.’ Mitch Albom.

And so it is. Some mothers bring us life. Some scoop us up and take us under their wing. Regardless, there is nothing like motherly love. Their story is our story. Our story is theirs.