Love, Your Baby Girl

My mother’s emails and cards and letters to me are addressed to “My baby girl.”  My mom does a lot of things that, from other people, I find unacceptable.  

My mom is always excited to see me.  She exclaims when I walk in the door as if she is surprised - even if I called her to tell her I was coming, even if it is a family gathering, even if she just saw me three days ago.  I roll my eyes.

 My mom is a hugger.  I am not a hugger.  She hugs me anyway.  And I let her.

My mom lives out loud.  She laughs loudly, and often.  She never hesitates to say what’s on her mind, ever.  She is vibrant and sociable.  (I did not inherit these things from my mother.)

My mom is resilient.  She keeps a cluttered schedule and works hard.  She is headstrong and stubborn, especially when she knows she’s right. (I do inherit these things from my mother.)

I accept these things because my mom is a unique mother.  She is human, very human, and has never tried to hide that fact.  I think this is what allows her to be such a great mom to her now adult children.  She accepts us as humans, and treats us accordingly.

My mom has held me in her arms while I cried as an adult, and not said a word, because she knows that the last thing I would want to do in that moment is to talk or to listen.  My mom has encouraged me to follow my own path in life.  

My mom is genuine, sometimes naive, never inhibited.  My mom is kind, oh so kind.  She is thoughtful and heartfelt and caring.  

Most importantly, my mother is supportive.  In every step I take, even as it takes me away from her for periods of time, my mom is there, supporting me.  I don’t always make it easy on her. My dreams are not the ones we agreed upon when I was a bright child who was interested in science.  My life is not one that is traditional, necessarily.  There are milestones that I have not reached that I know my mom wants me to reach – preferably in her lifetime. (I know this because she basically passes out business cards to any and all single men she meets under the age of 40.)  

But the thing is, even though I know that it must be difficult for her to be as unconditionally supportive as she is all the time, she makes it look so easy.

So, no matter what I do or how far I roam, I will always take comfort in knowing that I am My Mom’s Baby Girl.  And that is the best comfort that I know.