It’s Mother’s Day, And I’m A Mommy

6:58 AM

I was going to write about Mother’s Day on Friday, and it was supposed to be scheduled to be published today, but I could not quite find the words. I started several posts with several titles, but it was not flowing, so I stopped and promised to do it on Saturday (yesterday). Yesterday, however, between making us a big breakfast and us driving to a wedding in Washington D.C (after dropping Ada Verastic with grandma), there just wasn’t the time because as you know, after a big meal comes sleep.

We got back home around 11:45 PM and I still did not have a post. But this morning, my thoughts jolted me up. Igwe would be surprised to see me awake so early because I am never awake at seven in the morning.

But when I woke up this morning, I did the same thing I do every morning: I started staring at Ada Verastic, sleeping soundly next to me, and I planted several soft kisses on her. And because I’m creepy like that, I sniffed her, too. She has a smell, and it’s intoxicating to me. Every morning, I wake up staring at her in disbelief, and I literally say to God, “Look at her, God.”  I imagine his response is, “I’ve seen her; I made her, remember?”

By His grace, I have not even lived half of my life yet, but the little bit I have lived, nothing has changed and impacted me as much as motherhood. I have never known this kind of love before. I am generally ferociously defensive of people I love, but Ada Verastic, I would challenge a sharp shooter to a duel, if he says the wrong word about my girl. I don’t know if this fascination is because she’s still new (6.5 months) or because this is just my maternal instinct, but what I know for sure is that my love for and fascination of this girl is engulfing.

And this now makes me think of my mommy, and her mommy, and her mommy’s mommy. All my life, my mommy has defended me and never let anyone – and I do mean ANYONE – tell her anything about her child. There were times I thought she was being overly protective, but I no longer think that. Now, I understand.

I think about all the ways my mom has loved me, and all the times she has proven to me that I mean everything to her. I remember one emotional time that I was ill and my mommy cried to God in prayer, reminded Him that I was the only eye she was seeing with. I just started crying as I wrote that sentence; thank God this is not a video. I have always been close to my mommy, always been her shadow, going everywhere with her. Now that my mommy is in Nigeria and I’m here, this is the longest period of time that we have ever been apart from each other, and it’s been difficult, Sometimes, I just want to put my head on her laps and let her stroke my hair as she usually does. I’ll never stop needing my mommy.

My mommy lost a son before me; I never got to meet him. He was born three years before me. Although I never met him, I still mourn him all the time, especially on his birthday. I feel a certain closeness and familiarity to him. I liken Igwe to him. Igwe is very affectionate toward me and protective of me, and in my head, I think, if my brother was alive, this is how he would treat me, too. I used to only mourn him as a sister would mourn her brother, but since becoming a mom, I now mourn him as a mom, too, and I break down when I think of the pain my mom must have felt and still feel.  I don’t ever want to truly know that pain. I’m still crying.

My grandma, strong woman, she birthed nine children; seven of them are living. She is fascinated by Igwe because of how involved he is in Ada Verastic’s life. She tells me all the time that this is not how it used to be during her time. During her time, men sat on the proverbial throne at home, read newspapers, watched black and white television, and were served a hot meal on demand. It was she who had to care for all her children. It was she who had to raise her children. She has very few pictures of her babies because back then, pictures were for rich people, and they were living from hand to mouth, and some of the few she did have were lost during the war. But she’s 80 years old now, and I am so grateful to God for keeping her, and for giving me the grace to make her a great grandma. I am also her oldest grandchild, and now, Ada Verastic is her oldest (and only) great grandchild.

Today, we will be dedicating Ada Verastic to God in church. For me, this is for formality because we dedicated this child to God before He placed her in my womb. She’s all His. My prayer now is that He gives us the wisdom and strength to raise her in the right way, that she always knows that we love her unconditionally, that she knows that we will forever be fascinated by her, and that eventually, she becomes utterly disgusted by the love her parents have for each other. Amen.

Happy Mother’s Day to me, to my mommy, to my mommy’s mommy, and to all mommies,  expecting mommies, and mommy figures. You rock.

7:50 AM

Vera out.