I’ve known my mother since conception. My father provided the seed but my mother nurtured, protected me and provided a safe space for me to grow until I was ready to make my entrance into this world.
We shared the same breath, blood, fluids, thoughts, anxieties, happiness and sadness. I was in residence inside her being so I felt what she felt. We have a special bond. Most children have a bond with their mother.
I had these thoughts when I was with my mother in Louisiana earlier this month. One morning, after bathing her, I tenderly dried her body. As I moved the towel across her ninety-four year old scarred, wrinkled, and sagging belly, I had a deep awareness that this was where I lived for nine months. This was my sanctuary as I was being prepared for life on earth, the place where I bonded with my mother and where I was protected until I was ready to make my appearance.
I lovingly patted her belly dry. Then I moved to her breast. Once again I had such a deep awareness that these breasts suckled me, they gave me life, and they nourished me emotionally and physically.
Attending to my beloved mothers physical needs has made me very sensitive to the role women play on this earth, to the connection between a mother and a child, and to the depth of the feminine spirit to nourish and nurture.
My mothers hands dressed me and held me, they cuddled me and wiped away my tears. They tucked me in bed as her lovely voice sang lullabies to comfort and soothe me.
It is ironic what is happening to my mother as she ages and forgets where she is, what
is doing, and sometimes even forgets who I am. But here’s the thing. As she has become more helpless and in need of being taken care of, bathed, fed, and put to bed my focus is shifting to a much deeper place. My love for her and understanding of her as a mother is taking on new meaning.
Though we can’t have a lot of conversations any more, I still can hold her hands and thank her for using those hands to take care of me. My connection to my mother is taking on deeper layers of knowing and sensing.
A lot of times my mother doesn’t know she is my mother, but I do believe as I touch her with love and gentleness something in her remembers and responds to who she is. She is my mother and that bond is strong.