A Love That Keeps Giving (Happy Mother's Day)

They say you appreciate your mother a lot more when you have children of your own. Having children is probably not something I will ever experience! Even so, as the years go by, my appreciation for my mother has grown more and more.

Two years after I left home and was living in Indonesia, as part of some coursework on psychology, I called home to ask my parents what they remembered about my birth and early childhood. "Before you came along," my mum said, "we hadn't had much experience with babies. So when you did come, we hardly knew what to do. We just looked at you lying there and the nurse had to tell us to pick you up!"

Apparently, as a baby I had problems latching on to either breast or bottle. "We were going to the shop every other day to get a different size of bottle top," my mother laughed.

Imagining them fretting over me as a fussy baby always brings a smile. Fast-forward 24 years, and another memory stands out - my own this time. I was just about to start a "real" job as a lawyer after some time of dabbling in the NGO field, and for some reason my mum seemed even more excited than I was. "You need a proper bag and clothes," she said decisively, pooh-poohing my casual dress sense and wardrobe. "And make-up." We went down to Orchard Road and its glittery stores together. As the more fashionable one of us, she steered me through the endless racks, pointing out suitable outfits and bags, generously footing the bill for a lot of it. This was her field of expertise - the corporate world - and her pride and excitement that I was going to enter it touched me greatly.

(It also always amuses me that I get compliments about my clothes only when wearing something she picked out!)

In my first few weeks on the job, she made breakfast for me every day, usually sandwiches that I would bring: not just the usual ham and cheese but also more exotic things like smoked duck and kimchi.

It was a time when we were negotiating a new kind of relationship: I was finally starting what the family considered "real" work, while she was letting go of her own formal work commitments and transitioning into a new phase of life. Our conversations became more of mutual sharing; we were discovering each other more as persons, beyond the narrower roles of mother and daughter that we once played.

This blossoming relationship was one of the hardest things I had to let go of when I finally decided to leave home and become a religious sister. I missed our late night chats when she would sidle into my room and sit beside me on the bed, telling me about her day. I missed the way she would hold my hand in her lap when we sat together in church. I still do.

And perhaps my leaving home for something she couldn't understand at the time also confronted her with one of the biggest challenges one faces as a mother: that of letting your children go. Watching her gradually do that was also a lesson to me in loving. It was a tremendous gift to me that she was present when I made my first vows in Manila in 2017.

In one of our occasional calls, I remember her telling me about organising a parenting workshop for poor families in the parish (one of the many charitable pursuits she engages in these days). Somewhat wistfully, she added, "I wish you were still here, so that your dad and I could shower you with more love."

I don't suppose one ever stops being a child in your mother's eyes. But I have received enough love for many lifetimes.

Happy Mother's Day, mum.

Audrey fcJ

Mother's Day 2019