My mama

I stood in front of the pantry, filled with food, stomach grinding and needed something to fill it up, yet the thought of food also made me queasy. Such contradictory. Situations like this always bring me to the brim of tears. And then I would think of my mama. Did she go through the same thing? Did she long for her own home and her own mother when she had me in her? Did she feel lonely and helpless with the mountains of work waiting for her to get done and the little ones to be fed and guided and to sort out every little arguments they had? Did she collapsed in her bed and cried, because of the discomfort and because no one would understand?

Very often I thought of her. I had never understood the meaning of being a mother until I became one. Being a mother myself cast a very different light on my own mother. Suddenly I began to see how she sees us and understood the meaning of her action. I began to understand her more and I learn to appreciate her more. I have never thought of it, but the journey of motherhood actually bind my mother and me stronger, together, than before. I realized now our lives are forever entwined and linked, started from the beginning of how I was linked from my navel to her uterus, absorbing every nutrient she could give me. The only difference now is that, she keeps on giving and I keep on receiving her love, the never ending love that comforts me and empowers me, and even my own children.

When I am at my weakness moment, I often thought of her. What would she do? Moment such as you had two newborns crying and screaming and you were the only one around to care for them. You were exhausted from feeding them every 3 hours and changing and holding or rocking them. You could not figure out why they would not stop crying or why they simply would not let you sleep. Moment such as you curled up in your bed and wept your heart out. Moments such as these I prayed and cried my heart out to God, and then I thought of my own mama. Did I give her such troubles when I was young? Did I make her doubt herself and lost confidence in herself in being a mother? I called her once and talked about the babies, how one of the girl when she first came back from the hospital, she would not sleep and would kept screaming until we held her. She shared that when I was first born, I was having some stomach problem and would not stop crying. I would not stop unless she held me. So she held me and sat in some sort of reclining chair and slept. She could not really sleep much because my urine or feces would soak through the cloth diapers and woke her up, then she had to change me. There were times she was so tired she did not wake up, and when she did, her clothes would be completely soaked through with my urine or feces. She was laughing when she was telling me this, but on this end of the phone, I was crying quietly and tears were streaming down my cheeks. I could not understand what she went through. I know she had an unsupportive mother-in-law who lived with her and also my father who never thought child rearing was part of a man’s business. I could not bear to think how lonely and helpless she felt. I could see now how the seed of bitterness and coldness being planted in her heart in her feelings toward my father and his family. It would sprout and grow and got so strong later in the years, completely out of her control. In my moments of weakness I thought of her, with greater love and respect but also with sympathy and sadness. I often tell myself, if my mother can do it, so can I. She gives me strength from thousand miles away. But very often too when I thought of her loneliness and bitterness, I very much want to stroke her face and whisper, here, mama. It is OK. I love you. We love you.  Let it go. Forget it. Your hard work has paid off, we are all grown now and healthy. Come here, mama, don’t go there. Don’t go into the past. There is greater things out here. There is love. I very much long to say this and hold her in my arms. I very much long to chop down that giant tree of bitterness and hatred. Yet it is not within my power. I can only dump love on it. More and more love. If I feed love, maybe the fruit of bitterness and hatred will die and it will grow love instead. I pray hard and love hard. It is OK, mama, come here. I understand now. I am a mother now too. I understand.

I understand now.