By Kathryn A. Rothschadl
A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives roses.
~Chinese Proverb
My relationship with my mother did not begin in the usual way. I was not born of her womb. Her blood does not course through my veins and I didn't inherit her soft green eyes or her slender frame. Nor was I the result of someone else's poor planning, later to be adopted by my mother. She became my mother by proxy.
A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives roses.
~Chinese Proverb
My relationship with my mother did not begin in the usual way. I was not born of her womb. Her blood does not course through my veins and I didn't inherit her soft green eyes or her slender frame. Nor was I the result of someone else's poor planning, later to be adopted by my mother. She became my mother by proxy.
She came into my life at a time when I truly needed a mother. At first I resented her, even disrespected her. I saw her as an intruder in my life and I wanted nothing to do with her. But one hot summer afternoon, all that changed. As I was playing in the yard, she brought me a glass of ice water. I began to gulp it down and unwittingly inhaled a large ice cube. It became lodged in my throat and I began to panic. My mother saw my distress and immediately ran to my aid. She helped to dislodge the ice cube and then pulled me into a gentle embrace as I cried. All my resentment for her immediately disappeared and at that moment I knew that she was truly my mother.
Throughout my childhood, we did the kinds of things mothers and daughters are supposed to do. We went shopping, did errands, read books, and watched movies together. She taught me how to cook and clean, tend the garden and do household chores. She savored little moments with me -- times when it was just the two of us and we could do something special. Money was always tight, but she found creative ways for us to have fun. She was strict but fair and I adored her.
When I was a teenager, we had the usual ups and downs that girls and their mothers have. We fought and made up. I hated her and loved her. I pushed her away but always came back to her. She encouraged me to join extra-curricular groups at school and to pursue a college degree. She reminded me how difficult it had been for her to earn her degree so much later in life. And when I finally went off to college, we both experienced a loneliness we never anticipated. Somehow, through all the ups and downs, triumphs and tragedies, she was no longer just my mother; she had become my best friend.
Today, as an adult, I am forever grateful that this woman who did not give birth to me, who did not adopt me, and who had not planned on having me in her life, has given so much of herself to me. She is the one I call when I've had a bad day. She's the one I long for when I'm sick in bed. She is the one who can comfort me, reassure me and support me when I need it most.
Now that I have children of my own, I know how strong and how beautiful the bond is between a mother and her children. I understand the responsibility to put my children before myself. I ache when they hurt and I smile when they are happy. But could I so unselfishly provide for and love a child who was not my own? I would like to think I could; I would like to think I have learned by example.
As I watch her with my children now, I am amazed at her patience and understanding. I am touched by how deeply she loves them, and reminded of how blessed I am that she came into my life.
Had our paths never crossed, I have no doubt that I would not be the person I am today. My life most certainly would have disintegrated into a downward spiral. The moment she entered my life, she changed the path I would take. She steered me in the right direction and stayed with me until she was certain I wouldn't lose my way. Then she entrusted me to continue on my own, and became a beacon in the distance, a presence to let me know she was always there if I needed her.
My mother does not fit the negative stereotypes associated with her role. She was never cruel to me. She never put her birth children before me. She has given me nothing but unconditional love.
She is the single most influential person in my life. She is my stepmother and I am proud to call this beautiful woman "Mom."
Throughout my childhood, we did the kinds of things mothers and daughters are supposed to do. We went shopping, did errands, read books, and watched movies together. She taught me how to cook and clean, tend the garden and do household chores. She savored little moments with me -- times when it was just the two of us and we could do something special. Money was always tight, but she found creative ways for us to have fun. She was strict but fair and I adored her.
When I was a teenager, we had the usual ups and downs that girls and their mothers have. We fought and made up. I hated her and loved her. I pushed her away but always came back to her. She encouraged me to join extra-curricular groups at school and to pursue a college degree. She reminded me how difficult it had been for her to earn her degree so much later in life. And when I finally went off to college, we both experienced a loneliness we never anticipated. Somehow, through all the ups and downs, triumphs and tragedies, she was no longer just my mother; she had become my best friend.
Today, as an adult, I am forever grateful that this woman who did not give birth to me, who did not adopt me, and who had not planned on having me in her life, has given so much of herself to me. She is the one I call when I've had a bad day. She's the one I long for when I'm sick in bed. She is the one who can comfort me, reassure me and support me when I need it most.
Now that I have children of my own, I know how strong and how beautiful the bond is between a mother and her children. I understand the responsibility to put my children before myself. I ache when they hurt and I smile when they are happy. But could I so unselfishly provide for and love a child who was not my own? I would like to think I could; I would like to think I have learned by example.
As I watch her with my children now, I am amazed at her patience and understanding. I am touched by how deeply she loves them, and reminded of how blessed I am that she came into my life.
Had our paths never crossed, I have no doubt that I would not be the person I am today. My life most certainly would have disintegrated into a downward spiral. The moment she entered my life, she changed the path I would take. She steered me in the right direction and stayed with me until she was certain I wouldn't lose my way. Then she entrusted me to continue on my own, and became a beacon in the distance, a presence to let me know she was always there if I needed her.
My mother does not fit the negative stereotypes associated with her role. She was never cruel to me. She never put her birth children before me. She has given me nothing but unconditional love.
She is the single most influential person in my life. She is my stepmother and I am proud to call this beautiful woman "Mom."
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