I have two mothers.
Thanks to both of them, I am who and what and where and why I am. Thanks to them, I'm strong enough to stand up for what I believe in, to act against injustice, and to work in the hope that some day everyone will truly be equal.
Happy Mothers' Day to both of my mothers, who made choices that helped make me who I am.
I have two mothers.
One of them sang me to sleep when I was a baby, or acting like a baby. She gave countless bruises and cuts a kiss to make them feel better. She was there when I had nightmares, she was there holding my head and rubbing my back when I threw up after eating all the Christmas candy when I was three. She loved every ugly clay ashtray I ever made her, and still has a of those few woven potholders and a really ugly plaster dog left over from when I was eight. She was there when I needed a ride home after school for getting the n-thousand-th detention for talking in class, or forgetting to do my homework, or making fun of the teacher. She went to the parent-teacher conferences, helped me pick out my prom dress and pretended to like it, loved every single one of my horrendous school photos, and put up with endless amount of backtalk. Everything I am, in part, is because of her.
The other gave me life, and gave me up, so that I might have a better chance--she didn't just want me to have life, she wanted me to have a good life. And everything I am, and everything I am not, is also, in part, due to her.
One of my mothers was a Reagan Democrat. She taught me about politics not by activism or example, but by proving that my even my liberal thoughts and words were welcome at her dinner table. She taught me about justice not by discussing what was wrong in the world, but by doing her utmost to make sure that the punishment fit the crime (something she had to do far too often); by coping with both a spouse with chronic health problems and a long-impending divorce with grace and never casting blame. She taught me about equality by making sure that I never felt, though I was the first female in her family to complete college, that my gender was a factor. She taught me about the value of peace by making a home that prized it.
My other mother was someone who likely considered herself part of a political party, though I'll never know which one that was. She taught me about politics by giving me an example to consider--by allowing me a perspective on what unwed teenage mothers go through, an appreciation for the difficulty of all the possible decisions, and the necessity of making sure that government and childbearing are kept far apart. She taught me about justice and equality by example as well--by deciding to have her baby and give it up for adoption, and by visiting her months-premature baby in a children's home for four months after that baby was born--long after she had any right, need, or duty to do so. She taught me the value of not just love but caring, though we have never met, and we likely never will.
I look nothing like the mother who raised me. We have little in common, other than love. She never finished college; I have a master's degree. She doesn't like politics; I thrive on it. She prefers books to movies; I could read all day long without complaint. She likes going to the beach; I try to avoid bathing suits whenever possible. She hates driving; I love it. What's common between us goes far beyond such superficial things. It's something words can't adequately express. We were hostages to my father's illness and enforced retirement, to her having to work outside the home, to the kinds of problems every family faces, every day. It's a strong bond, born of hardship and joy, of choice and love. We were happy to be hostages to fortune, because we were together. That was all that mattered.
From what I've discovered, I have a great deal in common with the mother I've never met. We both have blond hair, we both have blue eyes, we're both 5'8". We both talk a lot. We both come from large families. We both went to college, we're both interested in science, we're both strong women. And I like to think that we're bonded as well--not because I need another Mommy, but because we shared almost eight months of our lives. I like to think that, though our captivity was short, we were hostages to fortune in the same way, and that makes a difference somehow. I may never know, though, because the only things I know about her are superficial ones.
The mother who raised me has my love and gratitude, because she has sacrificed a great deal of her life toward making mine better. The mother who gave me life has my love and gratitude, because she cared more about me, in one certain area of my life, than anyone ever will again.
Both of my mothers are wonderful women. Both of them made choices, when I was very young, that changed my life. Neither had to make the choices they did, but those choices were available to them just the same. They had the freedom to choose, and they chose. I like to think they chose well.
What a wonderful thing choice is, huh?