The Gift My Mother Gave Me
Last year, I found myself, as I often do at least once a year, on the side of the road with something wrong with my car. I called Noah a few times (who just so happened to be in the shower) with no answer before I dialed my mom. I had just left my parents’ house, and to be honest, my mom already had her hands full with a surprise dog-sitting situation for my sister that weekend. Nonetheless, not 10 minutes later, my mom was there with Libby’s dog in the backseat of her car. I asked my mom how she got away with letting Libby’s dog stay with them for the weekend, because my dad is not a huge dog person. She told me she just asked him, “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your child?”
She also just never mentioned it and waited to see how long it would take him to notice the dog in the house. Both great strategies.
I stare at Estelle now sometimes and ask myself that question. No, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.
There is much to be made of motherhood today. So much information, opinions, and TikToks telling us how. It can feel overwhelming, especially as a first-time mom who doesn’t have the first clue what she’s doing—just a whole lot of love and no idea where to put it all.
My mom always tells my sister and me, “You are your child’s first experience of what God’s love feels like.” And she says to make every decision from that place. From sleep “training”, to breastfeeding, to how we’ll respond one day when they’re teenagers giving us the finger under the dinner table.
When I got pregnant with Estelle, I started to realize the gift my mother gave us. Because she is still loving and parenting us like that.
There are girls who watched their mother wake up early to spend hours in their Bible, saw them pour over small groups, and dedicate precious time to church and the people inside of it. This was not what we saw, and yet my mother’s love has always been the closest to holy love I’ve ever felt. Sacrificial, unconditional, always-there kind of love.
I thought this is how all mothers were until I realized how very rare my experience is. I recognize now, as I hold my holiest love in my arms, the real gift my mother gave me.
She modeled for us what this love looks like. And now this love gets to feel second nature to me. This is the gift. She prepared the way—for us to be that love for these babies too.
This love is rarely convenient. It’s not the kind that fits neatly around your own ambitions, comfort, or plans. But the kind that lets itself be interrupted. Rearranged. A life wrecked by unconditional love. Now today, as a mother myself, this daily dying-to-self doesn’t feel so foreign. Instead, it feels more like what I was made to do.
This love seems to always be asking, “What do you need me to be? I’ll be it. When do you need me? I’ll be there.” And the empowerment to go be there and go be it—well, there’s only one place to get that kind of love and only one place to get refilled when you feel like you’re running out.
May I love my daughter like how she will love her babies depends on it. You can only be what you’ve seen. And this Love is all I’ve ever known.
May I steward well this gift my mother has given me.