With all the hearts and flowers and loving sentiments issued on Mother’s Day, it has occurred to me as a mom that I wouldn’t be celebrating this special day if it weren’t for my own two kids … and the journey they traveled to make this happen.  

With this in mind, I was inspired to write the following, dedicated with love to my daughter Maya and my son Gideon, which presents Mother’s Day from a different point of view.

It seems ages that I’ve been cooped up in this small dark wet space. I don’t even know how I got here in the first place, but the longer I’m here, the less room I seem to have. I can hardly get around. I used to be able to stretch out, move around, punch, kick, do whatever I felt like, but I can’t anymore. I used to like it here; no one bothered me, I ate and slept whenever I wanted, I had no one to answer to. Even though I couldn’t see very well, I could, nevertheless, hear light pleasant sounds.

But now I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. I feel, after all this time, like a guest who has overstayed his welcome. I also get the feeling that if I don’t leave on my own, and soon, that somehow I’ll be forced to go. The time has come for me to leave this comfortable place I’ve called home for so long.

I find myself now being pushed through a long dark tunnel, ready or not. The tunnel seems so tiny and narrow that I find myself straining with the effort of getting through, squinting into the darkness and hoping I’ll get through safely and with no complications. I’ve never been on a journey that is taking as long as this one. There’s no way I can turn back, but really I can’t wait to reach the other end after such a struggle, no matter what lies in store for me.

At last, when I think I’ll never get there, I burst through into a world full of light, so bright, that I need to squint, and even close my eyes for a while. I feel cool and dirty after such a long trip, but I’m lucky because in an instant I find I’m being cleaned and wrapped up so that I feel comfortable again.

And low voices all around me are whispering, “What a darling baby! It was certainly worth the nine month wait.”

And my first Mother’s Day was born.