I remember telling my mom over her home-cooked Chicken Cordon Bleu that I didn’t want to have kids. “I want to travel and go to concerts and own my own company,” my 24-year-old self said. “And you know I have zero pain tolerance. I can’t go through it, Mom.” She smiled at me and said, “Oh, Megan. It is the most rewarding thing you will ever do, and you forget about the pain when you see your child.” I can’t remember my reaction, but I probably rolled my eyes and laughed.
I remember meeting Mark and thinking that kids could be a possibility. What kind of mom would I be? Would I be good enough? Would I be strong enough? How would I know what to do? “Megan, you will just know. None of us knew what we were doing at first, but your instinct will kick in. You will be a great mom,” my mom reassured me.
I remember the doctor telling me that I would be induced and asking my parents to make sure they were in town since we lived 3.5 hours apart. They came to town early. My mom held my hair when I got sick off every meal I put in my body. She brought me a wet wash cloth to put on my forehead. She told me I was beautiful even though I knew I looked like a whoolly mammoth. She decorated the nursey and it’s a shame Southern Living never put it in a magazine because it’s one of the prettiest nurseries you have ever seen. She was there the whole time I was in labor. She pulled my hair up. Held my hand. Encouraged me. Prayed with me. Believed in me.
Then I became a mom. And of course, my heart was blown wide open. Not only to my new, perfect daughter, but for my mom.
In that moment of holding McCartney, I now understood how my mom felt about me and my brother. A love that is so overwhelming powerful that it brings you to your knees in prayer that no harm will ever come to them. You instantly know that you will sacrifice anything. Go to any heights to make sure they are protected. Come running when they call you and sometimes, even come running when they don’t call, but your mama heart knows they need you.
I look at my growing toddler everyday and think about our future. How much fun her gymnastics meets will be with all of us cheering for her. I remember my mom getting me ready every weekend for gymnastics. Waking up at the crack of dawn and making sure I had a good breakfast and was ready to rock. I think of how the vacations will be filled with new adventures and remember all the trips my parents took us on growing up. My mom always made sure we were packed, had on sunscreen, and that our favorite snacks were in tow for the road trip. I dream about shopping for prom dresses and eventually, McCartney’s wedding gown. I still remember twirling in every dress for my mom until we found “The One.” I think back to my wedding day and remember how beautiful my mom was in her dress and how grateful I was to have my mom with me on such a special day.
I still feel like I need her when I am sick. I still call her every morning, afternoon, and night to tell her about my day. I still ask for her advice and opinions on everything. Thirty years of life and she is still sacrificing for me, taking care of me, and loving me fiercely. That is what motherhood is all about, folks.
Mom, thank you for always answering the phone. Thank you for loving my family with your whole heart. Thank you for every sacrifice you made to make my dreams come true. And most importantly, thank you for showing me how to be a loving, faithful, strong mom for my own daughter. I love you endlessly.
Happy Birthday, Mom. You are my person.