To Honor my Mother

Sunday is Mother’s Day; A day to honor the woman who gave you life. A day to show your appreciation for all of the kissed boo-boos, wiped noses, taxi services, hugs, warm meals, and all of the other little amazing things mothers do every day without giving it a second thought. 

For many years now (14 to be exact) I have hated this holiday. It only makes me sad and brings all of my attention to this huge mom-sized hole in my life. This year though, I want to honor my mother and I don’t want it just to be about how sad I am that she’s gone. So, here is the story of my mom, as a child remembers it. 

My mom was an amazing woman. She had a smile that could light up a room and her laugh was infectious. I thought she had to be the most beautiful woman in the world. She was silly, sweet, kind, caring, and the strongest person I have ever known. 

My mom, called half-pint by my dad, was a tiny woman. She topped out at 4’11 and weighed about 100 pounds soaking wet. My Nana tells me that when my mom got mad she was like a banny rooster, but that’s a side of her I didn’t see often. Not that I didn’t push her to the limits, but her counting to 3 when she was mad included all kinds of numbers like 2, 2 and a half, 2 and three-quarters, giving me plenty of time to change my mind about disobeying her. She loved country music and we would sing in the car together. She was afraid of hitting a deer though, so we always had to scan the ditches while we were driving in the country.  My mom was very particular about the way she looked and dressed, and naturally, this extended to me as well.  We would pick out our clothes the night before, choosing matching socks and jewelry as well. I was in awe of her and her morning routine. Watching her apply make up and do her hair was like watching an artist. Of course, you can’t rush an artist and my mom was chronically late for everything. 

Our lives changed when I was only 3 years old. My mom was diagnosed with a rare and basically untreatable form of cervical cancer. Later, we would find out this was due to a drug the doctors had given to her mother while she was pregnant with my mom and her twin sister, as a precaution to avoid a miscarriage. This drug is now known to have caused cervical cancer in women and infertility in men. 

From what I remember, the doctors didn’t give her a great prognosis, perhaps a year from my understanding. She underwent several major operations and went into remission twice. 

The cancer spread through my mom’s little body over the years. They did a total hysterectomy, took out part of her intestines, and eventually she had both a colostomy and ileostomy for her bodily wastes. She was such a fighter and willing to do anything to live. She underwent chemotherapy treatments in 1996, and perhaps through all of physical pain and sickness, the most heart breaking part of this was losing her hair. However, my mother was an adorable bald woman. We encouraged her to embrace it and sometimes she did, but most of the time she wore a blond wig (because blondes have more fun).  Her attitude through all of this was always positive and upbeat for me. I never once saw her discouraged or beaten, even though I am sure she had to be feeling that at times. My parents protected me, but never hid my mom’s condition from me. I knew all about her medications, her chemo and have even found journal entries from when I was 9 about her white blood cell count. 

My mom fought with everything she had for 7 years and she did have a lot of good times in between being sick. At the very end, she elected for Hospice care and wanted to die in her home. For some time our home was filled with family and friends, coming to say their goodbyes. We had a hospital bed set up in our living room so that she could be in the home she loved. She left this world on March 13, 1997 with my dad and I at her side. She was only 35 years old. Everyone who knew her felt the incredible loss. 

I think, for me, this loss has become more evident as I have grown into a woman. I am angry and sad that she can’t be here now and that there is so much I feel like she has missed. Really though, it is me missing her. I carry her with me in my heart, but more importantly she’s with Jesus. She has a perfect body and perfect health and peace and will never feel pain again. I trust with my whole heart that I will see her again someday. But, until I do, I will miss her and remember her, and strive to be even a little bit like her or have a fraction of her strength. 

As a way to honor her, this year I am walking in the Relay for Life, which is an awareness and fundraising event put on by the American Cancer Society. The funds are used y the American Cancer Society to provide 24 hour support for people with cancer and their family, research for a cure, work towards legislation to defeat cancer, and education and early detection. I would appreciate if you would support me in this cause by visiting my team website and thank you so much for letting me share my precious memories of my mom with you.