As a doctor and a mother, I often find myself questioning my effectiveness in this parenting journey. There are days when fatigue overwhelms me, making it hard to articulate coherent thoughts or engage in play. My patience can fray, and I dread the thought of one more request from you, fearing I might just crack under the pressure.
I often find myself on repeat, issuing commands: “Finish your breakfast!” “Pick up your clothes!” “Be kind to each other!” “No, we don’t throw paper towels in the sink!” “Please aim for the toilet!” By the end of the day, I reflect on whether I’ve provided you with a joyful childhood. Will you remember me simply as the one who kept you fed, gave orders, and wiped your tears—or will you recall moments of laughter, thoughtfulness, and genuine joy?
I suspect your memories will encompass a blend of both. Just as I remember my own upbringing, including those moments of frustration mixed with the magic of connection. I hope to create some of those cherished memories for you.
I want you to see me as your mom first, but also as a woman—a human being who is not perfect yet filled with love and lessons to share. I recognize that your childhood is still unfolding, and I have plenty of time to make an impact on your lives. When I think about what I want you to carry with you, it boils down to a few simple truths that I hope will stick in your minds.
Here’s what I want you to always remember about me:
I want you to remember those evenings when I insisted I was too tired to do anything adventurous, yet on a Saturday night, we bundled up in our pajamas, ventured to the corner store for candy, and enjoyed the magic of the night sitting on our stoop.
I want you to recall how I cradled you in my arms when you were unwell, singing “This Little Light of Mine” off-key until you drifted off to sleep against my heart.
I hope you remember that no matter how scary your nightmares were, my room was always open for you, and I would hold your hand until you found peace again.
While I know there were times when I raised my voice about seemingly trivial matters, I hope you also remember my apologies whenever I realized I’d let my frustrations get the better of me.
Think of those fun nights when we had breakfast for dinner, or when ice cream was our main course, and I hope you look back on those moments fondly, rather than viewing them as shortcomings in my role as your provider.
I want you to see me as a person who paused to admire the moon and celebrated a beautiful sunset, as well as the mom with a soft belly, wrinkles of worry, and messy hair—all of which represented warmth and love.
I want you to remember me as an ordinary yet courageous woman, someone who spoke her truth to you and others without hesitation.
Above all, I want you to understand that everything I did, even the mistakes, stemmed from a place of love. I tried my best, always aiming for you to feel secure and cherished.
I recognize that I can’t shape the memories you will have. Those are yours to create, and while I have some influence, the outcomes are ultimately yours to define. But a mother can hope, right? I hope that through the chaos of our daily lives, I give you chances for unfiltered happiness. I want you to see my flaws as part of who I am—someone who showed up, tried her best, and loved you endlessly.
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In summary, my dear ones, remember the love, the laughter, the messy moments, and the adventures we shared. They are what truly define our time together.