This child I carry has raised my rhythm, has given God a new name. Here we are holy/for more than Sunday. You, taking space in my womb, making my belly your mother country, burying your name in my bones.
— For the one who made me a mother, an excerpt from my book, “Beckoning of the Wind: An Ode to Motherhood”
To the one who made me a mother—thank you.
Because you gave my life a fresh new meaning. You opened up my heart in a way that I didn’t even know to be possible. You expanded my joy. You defined an entirely new meaning of love for me—a love that makes the oceans tremble. A love that makes the wind sing. A love that fills me with the grit and the glory to be your mother.
I do not hold the words to explain the depths of my gratitude for you. Because through becoming your mother, I became an entirely new woman who holds more strength and spirit than I ever knew lived inside of me.
You cracked me open—wide open. You allowed me to let loose a hymnal of joy that was rumbling deep in my soul, and I have yet to stop singing.
To know there were nights when I prayed for you. And now prayer has become the language of my days. To cover you. To guide you. To protect you. And I owe it all to a God who answers prayers. Because who could have known that I needed you? And that you needed me?
You taught me the grace of the rivers—how going with the flow in such unfamiliar waters can be beautiful.
For you, I have moved mountains. For you, I have walked through valleys. And for you, I would do it again and again. For I consider it the ultimate honor to be the matriarch of your home. To be the maternal force that stands behind you through trial and tribulation, through sun and storm.
You taught me the grace of the rivers—how going with the flow in such unfamiliar waters can be beautiful. How in the midst of the unknown, you experience firsthand something spiritual and divine. When motherhood felt so raw and fresh and foreign, I didn’t know if I had the strength to love you as much as I knew you needed to be loved. But you reminded me that my best was more than enough. You reminded me of the beauty in vulnerability.
For months I weaved your lineage within my body—your first home. Though I swelled and stretch marks climbed the curves of my hips and thighs, you showed me how powerful this vessel truly is. On those days when I could not love the sight of my reflection, you reminded me that my body changed with a purpose. And that purpose was you.
I will forever rejoice in the splendor of motherhood.
There is quite no other union like the one between the mother and her first child. For it is the blueprint of how she nurtures and nourishes. It is the backbone of how her heart first expanded, and a constant reminder of her resilience. It is the beginning of her motherhood.
As we journey through life together, I will instill my wisdom into you. I will teach you to be a free and a soft thing. I will remind you that there is no limit, and encourage you to go after all your dreams. Because that’s what a mother is for.
So to the one who made me a mother—thank you. Because now I will forever rejoice in the splendor of motherhood. And my maternal love will always be reckoned as a force around you. I love you.