Daughter talks about her mother’s practical love and sacrifices that have helped her cope, and hastened her recovery from depression and anxiety.
Children don’t forget when a mother sacrifices everything for them. It’s not only getting pregnant, raising these kids and sending them to school. It’s a lot more. There are some little things that no one writes down as a mother’s responsibilities but they count.
We live by the memories we have, these memories help us relate with people the way that we do.
Read this and may our children find us worthy of such adulation and may they find memories and reasons to thank God for making us their parents:
Since my illness in January, my mum has practically been in my house since then, only going home at the weekends and holidays, just to give me all the support I need. She’s also my number supporter and assistant in my gardening business. Every morning; she’s out in the garden, pottering around, transplanting plant babies, moving anything that needs moving, checking on growing plants that might need care. She only brings things to my attention that she might feel she needs me to make a decision on. She goes with me to pick up plants and make deliveries and all. When we come home, she will lift big pots and plants out of the car so I don’t have to do it. (One of the major care notes from my doctors is that my stress levels should be reduced to the barest and all stress triggers must be removed. Even now, when I get overly tired or stressed, the pain comes back, so my mum makes sure she does all these things so I don’t have to do them.) She will shout when she sees me carrying any heavy load and make sure I put it down and either carry it herself or get someone else to do it.
She’s also mother and grandmother to my kids, helping them with homework, keeping them out of my hair when she sees I need some space, preparing them innovative dishes that the kids look forward to and talk about for days after. I don’t know what they will do when she has to go back home permanently because even now, when she and I go out, before they say ‘welcome mummy,’ their first question is “where’s grandma?”
I’m a whole 41 years old, but I love having my mummy so close by. I know I complain about her fussing sometimes but most times it actually makes me smile. This morning I woke up and brought out my medicine bag (she calls it my Babalawo bag, cos there are so many drugs inside.) I was about to take the drugs on an empty stomach. She frowned and asked why I wouldn’t eat before doing that. I said I wanted to get the drugs in my system quickly so I could start my day (I need my depression and anxiety medication first thing in the morning to regulate my brain and help me start the day on a stable note). She immediately went to the kitchen and instructed the housekeeper on what to make for me. The housekeeper brought it but I was already in work mode, so the food sat there getting cold as I worked on my computer. She came in and, in her famous no-nonsense tone, she said, “Ijeoma, eat your food. That work is not going anywhere.” I jejely closed my laptop and picked up my plate, all the while smiling to myself. She only moved away when she saw that I was eating.
The fact that she wakes up and comes to my room to kiss me good morning on both cheeks before she starts her day, and she makes sure to hug me goodnight last thing before she goes to bed, makes me swell with Joy.
My recovery has had a lot to do with the marvel that is medical ingenuity, but the main ingredient has been my mother’s love.
I know I mentioned the other day how sis Kemi was hyping me in a conversation we had, but what I didn’t tell her was that in almost everything I do, I’m trying to be even half the woman I’ve seen my mother being.
Yes, of course she made mistakes while we were growing, like any human being, but now, with the hindsight of adulthood, I marvel at what she was able to achieve even with all the challenges she faced while we were growing up; mother of Nine, running a business and raising us, and raising the dozens of other people who considered her a mother figure, even though she wasn’t even related to them.
She gave and gave and gave some more. Sometimes I look at myself and say, Ijeoma, you still have a lot of work to do. You haven’t done even a quarter of what she did. A testament to her unending giving and love is how many people on these streets consider her a mother figure, even though they’ve never met her.
Mummy’m, Ada nde umu a mmiri, Ada di Oha mma ndi umuezeoke, we have been told that we must give our loved ones their flowers while they are here. If I could give you a thousand roses everyday forever, I would. I can’t afford it😂, but you have my undying love and gratitude for how you’ve loved me and my siblings and how you model love to us in not just words, but in every action conceivable.
I love you beyond words and your reservoir of love deposited in me will never dry up. You have given me the mandate to love in spite of myself and my flaws and the flaws of those who I must extend that love to. There is no better example of that than you, and I pray all your heart’s desires will come to fruition before your eyes. I pray contentment and peace to you and all the best things the world can offer, because you deserve nothing but the best.
Friends, please help me bless my mother in every way you can. With words and every other thing. If you want to send her money to appreciate her sef, just tell me, I will send you her account number.
Ijeoma O. U
This is my way of blessing this worthy, deserving mother. By sharing her story so the world can see what a great woman she is!
