Mothers

Thirty-eight years ago, my mother was a senior in High School.  She was not yet married.  She was not eighteen.  She was pregnant with me.  I was an accident, an oops, an unplanned consequence.  Yet, I was not a choice, I was a baby, I was her baby.  She wanted me, in spite of her mother's opposition. My mother was called to motherhood.  She wanted many  children.  Initially she wanted 12, then settled for 6, circumstances of life gave her 3.

I was born two months after my parents married, just over 30 weeks after I was conceived.  My delivery and post-natal care cost more than my father made in a year.  We didn't have insurance.

She never had the luxury to be able to stay home with her children.  While my parents were married, my mother worked nights in a factory and my father worked days in a department store to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads.  After my parents were divorced, it harder for them.

Both of my parents were on public assistance during my childhood at various times as the economy went up and down, when work wasn't available, or when full time work did not keep food on the table.  We lived in bad neighborhoods, we had old cars, we had clothing from thrift stores.

I always knew I was wanted, even when I did not like my mother and when my mother did not like me.  Even when we were both in too much of a hurry for me to grow up. She brought me into this world.  She supported me.  She encouraged me.

Thanks Mom.

My Children gave this plant to my wife 2 years ago for Mother's Day.