That One Day When I Realized It Was There The Whole Time

Sometimes we have an image of how things should be. Often, that image is not the reality. One example of that for me is my relationship with my mother. We’ve had our ups and downs as all mothers and daughters do, but the dynamic of our relationship has always been hard for me to understand. There always seemed to be a slight disconnect between us, and it has been my mission to try and figure it out.
Growing up, I was an independent child, shy and extremely quiet. Those who know me now probably cannot imagine that I was ever quiet, or shy for that matter!
When I was a little girl, I remember that I liked being alone and playing by myself. There is a picture of me, probably no more than 2 years old, sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by a tiny tea set. I look so content. As I got a little older, my playtime became pretending to be a mommy—stuffed animals and baby dolls were my ‘children’. I cuddled and loved on them, nursed them on my 4-year-old flat chest, and they even got in trouble at pretend church for talking during the sermon.
What precious images we create at a young age of what a mommy should be.
I loved my mommy and would always pray for her to be happy. To love me the way I thought she should love me.
What I discovered as an adult, and when I actually became a mommy, is that we are human. We are women who have a past, and not always a pretty one. We are women who are sometimes thrown into a leading role with neither an understudy nor a dress rehearsal before opening night. We are women who may be unhappy with the choices we’ve made in life and forget that we have little eyes watching us.
I learned that mommies can’t always express the deep love we feel for our children. That love is so deep, there are no words to capture it. I learned that while being human, we sometimes forget to be Mommy. We forget that our babies are unaware that we are mortal. They do not realize that we play several roles at once and will not do everything right.
My most recent realization is that my mother loves me and always has. I’ve spent so much time expecting that love to meet my ideal. I’ve spent so much time judging her for not fulfilling the image that I had formed and for that, I am sorry. Her love may not be what I had imagined, but it is love. It is HER love. And it is enough.