At just 11 years old, I watched as a midwife cared for my mother and delivered my baby sister. A spark burst into a flame inside of me, and I knew from that moment on that I wanted to be a part of the beauty and wonder of birth and be a mother myself one day.
One of the most rewarding aspects of my now almost 40-year career as a nurse and a midwife has been seeing women tap into their truest potential as they become mothers.
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What do you want for Mother’s Day? Perhaps you’ve asked your mother, spouse, or co-parent this question within the past couple of weeks. You might expect her to say flowers, shoes, a purse, or jewelry — tangible gifts you can order with a few clicks and have delivered to her doorstep in two business days. Yet, the gift that most mothers want is both free and expensive. It’s time, time to herself. The question is how can we give mothers more of their time?
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When rising artist Jay Allen debuted the song “No Prayer Like Mama’s,” I knew this was the artist I wanted to feature for Mother’s Day Weekend. To be honest, the lyrics just wreck me, and I suppose that is what a good country song does.
Allen grew up in a little Midwest town in Iowa where his dad owned a restaurant called Joe’s Country Grill. That’s where his dad met his mother when she was a waitress. Because they both worked at the restaurant, Allen spent much of his younger years there.
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Ahead of Mother’s Day 2023, numerous prominent corporations have begun simultaneously sending out emails to customers offering them the chance to opt out of receiving Mother’s Day-themed messages.
As reported by the Daily Caller, multiple screenshots posted to Twitter by various users depict strikingly similar messages from companies such as Hallmark, DoorDash, Kay’s Jewelers, Kroger, and Fry’s Food Stores, among others. The messages all feature very similar wording, leading many to consider the possibility of a coordinated campaign.
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by Jeff Minick This is the day we honor the mother who bore us, reared us, laughed with us (and sometimes laughed in private at us), argued with us, taught us everything from table manners to hygiene, protected us, and believed in us. She picked us up when we fell on the playground, and quieted us or welcomed us to her bed when we had nightmares. She changed thousands of diapers, told us a thousand times to put our napkins in our lap and to chew our food with our lips closed, prepared our meals and our lunches for school, washed and dried our laundry, and drove us to dance class or football practice. She taught us nursery rhymes, read us fairy tales, told us that green shirts and blue pants clash when worn together, checked our fourth-grade homework, and answered questions ranging from “How come the sky is blue?” to “Why are boys so weird?” She applauded our accomplishments, fretted over our failures, smiled over our antics as toddlers, and wept in her bedroom when we hurt her as teenagers. Motherhood is about love. And love — especially maternal love — is about sacrifice. That last sentence is…
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by Jeff Minick This is the day we honor the mother who bore us, reared us, laughed with us (and sometimes laughed in private at us), argued with us, taught us everything from table manners to hygiene, protected us, and believed in us. She picked us up when we fell on the playground, and quieted us or welcomed us to her bed when we had nightmares. She changed thousands of diapers, told us a thousand times to put our napkins in our lap and to chew our food with our lips closed, prepared our meals and our lunches for school, washed and dried our laundry, and drove us to dance class or football practice. She taught us nursery rhymes, read us fairy tales, told us that green shirts and blue pants clash when worn together, checked our fourth-grade homework, and answered questions ranging from “How come the sky is blue?” to “Why are boys so weird?” She applauded our accomplishments, fretted over our failures, smiled over our antics as toddlers, and wept in her bedroom when we hurt her as teenagers. Motherhood is about love. And love — especially maternal love — is about sacrifice. That last sentence is…
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When I was young and brash and full of dreams for the future (and in the process of making them come true), had anyone told me I would embrace motherhood joyfully, I would have scoffed. Could someone have enumerated the various episodes of vomit, crying, screaming, temper tantrums, refusals, Legos on the floor, suspect dried items of unknown origin stuck to the wall, load upon load of laundry, fatigue, and the acquisition of enough marks on my body that it resembles a world map, I would have turned up my nose and stormed away.
What is astonishing to me is the incredible joy and humor and depth to be found in such seeming banality. How when you feel the soft slump of a newborn melt into your chest, it is to brush up against the sublime.
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by Jeff Minick This is the day we honor the mother who bore us, reared us, laughed with us (and sometimes laughed in private at us), argued with us, taught us everything from table manners to hygiene, protected us, and believed in us. She picked us up when we fell on the playground, and quieted us or welcomed us to her bed when we had nightmares. She changed thousands of diapers, told us a thousand times to put our napkins in our lap and to chew our food with our lips closed, prepared our meals and our lunches for school, washed and dried our laundry, and drove us to dance class or football practice. She taught us nursery rhymes, read us fairy tales, told us that green shirts and blue pants clash when worn together, checked our fourth-grade homework, and answered questions ranging from “How come the sky is blue?” to “Why are boys so weird?” She applauded our accomplishments, fretted over our failures, smiled over our antics as toddlers, and wept in her bedroom when we hurt her as teenagers. Motherhood is about love. And love — especially maternal love — is about sacrifice. That last sentence is…
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We could never set aside enough days in a year, or hours in a week to honor the women that shape and inspire our lives daily.
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If language is everything, we could not, even if we tried, honor the women that shapes and inspires our lives. No matter how much you thank the woman who does it all for her children, once a year is never enough.
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Mother’s Day is a day of celebration. This Mother’s Day appreciate the woman you call Mom, Mama or Mother. If you are celebrating a motherless Mother’s Day, regardless of the pain, try to reflect on those lessons she taught you.
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