3 minute read
Mother is a Verb. You don’t have to have children to mother. Each time one of us
Mother as a Verb
Mother, as a noun, describes a woman in relation to her children.
I am 31 years old. I am divorced and childless. If there is anyone less qualified to write about being a mother, it may be me.
As the baby of five children, I was never accountable for helping raise anyone. The bright, shiny lights in my life are my eight nieces and nephews. But I have never changed a diaper–I don’t even know how. There’s a move during a diaper change where you grab the child around the ankles like you’re snagging a piglet as it runs by. I used to raise hogs so perhaps there’s a connection that might help if I’m ever needed on diaper duty?
I will never forget the doctor’s appointment in early 2016, where I was told I would never be a mother in the traditional sense. I had checked all the boxes in sequence until that point: college graduate, married, homeowner. That last item on the list remained, giving birth and now my doctor was telling me it would never happen.
Months later, shivering at a gas pump in below zero weather, a stranger seemingly obligated to awkward small talk is stunned that I am single and have no kids. His parting words are suspended in the frozen air: “Well, what’s wrong with you?”
Mother, as a verb, means “to bring up with care and affection.”
I am not a mother, but I have been mothered.
I have been mothered in a million ways. I have been mothered by the woman who gave birth to me– she gave us all everything she could. I have one sister and three sisters-inlaw. Through some of my hardest moments, they mothered me, too. Strangers have mothered me. There was a priest in downtown Chicago who stopped mid-stride as I entered the quiet sanctuary on Ash Wednesday to care for me. “Hello, child,” said the Father, as he mothered this lonesome out-of-towner. There was the woman at the Paris airport who gathered me into a hug as I sobbed over a missed flight. We had a language barrier, but the mothering broke straight through.
I am not a mother, but I hope I have mothered. Perhaps this is how I check that final box?
Happy Mothers’ Day, Mom! I hope the ground has thawed in Minnesota and you can finally get into your gardens. Thanks for bringing me up right. Miss you! -Shortcake
This pandemic is revealing the mothers among us, bringing us all up with them. There are those who help vulnerable neighbors by running errands. There are artists breaking their hearts open to bring us beauty and relief. The industry managers and workers overhauling their entire businesses to support people they will never meet. Healthcare workers, grocery store clerks, delivery drivers: all caring for the rest of us. And, the folks who stay home, keeping distance so we can stay healthy. They are saying, “We are bringing each other up with care and affection.”
To mother is how we heal. To mother represents the authentic best of what we have to give.
Mother’s Day allows us to reflect not only on the women who gave birth to us but also their collective example as to how to move through our lives lovingly. On this Mother’s Day, celebrate the Mothers–the ones who brought us into this world. And, consider honoring all those who mother because they bring us together.
A lifelong writer, Caitlin Fillmore studied Journalism at Waldorf College in Forest City, Iowa. She reported news, feature, and entertainment stories for publications throughout the Midwest. Caitlin is currently the Director of Development and Stewardship for the Diocese of Monterey and lives in Pacific Grove with her two dogs, Beef and Chop.
f u n s e o s i u r
