On mothering

“Encouraging someone to be entirely themselves is the loudest way to love them.” - Kalen Dion

For my mother, Janet

I was a chubby teen at the end of middle school and entering high school. In the middle of sixth grade, my family moved back to Saint Louis from a suburb of Annapolis. This was my fourth school - having done K-2nd in Saint Louis, 3rd-4th in Indianapolis, and then 5th and the beginning of sixth in Maryland. The typical middle school hormone woes were exacerbated by a small, tightly cliquish class, my naive eager honesty, and general nerdy awkwardness. A previously active child, I retreated to my room to read for hours on end and consume massive bowls of Honey Nut cheerios. (I still remember the metal prep bowl I would use.)

My parents were admittedly concerned as a soft doughiness and depression bloomed. My dad wanted to say something to me, but my mom said - “No. We let her lead this.” When I gained body awareness and wanted to change the form I had come to inhabit, she bought me the latest fad shakes I asked for. She went walking with me. She never talked about my weight. Eventually I got a job working at a local grocery store; the combination of being on my feet for up to eight hours and hustling carts around slowly siphoned away the excess weight. I emerged from high school healthy and happy.

I left to go to school in Chicago; on dorm move in day, my parents were there, helping me set everything up. I flitted around excitedly and once everything was done, I walked with them back to their car and waved happily “Bye!” Later, my dad told me my mom was emotional, watching me rush away to connect with other students. He drew her close and reminded her: that she is so ready for this means that we did our job well. She’s confident and prepared - what more could we want?

When I - their first born - graduated from college, I told them I didn’t want to walk at graduation; I had been to my friends the year before and I thought it was by turns boring and overstimulating. Instead I asked for them to come up for the Honors Program ceremony where I was presented my cords by one of my favorite teachers. We went out for Thai food afterwards in downtown, just the three of us. When I asked for help moving from Chicago to Carbondale, she showed up with my uncle, drove me south, and helped unpack me into (what I now understand) was a not-so-great place on the dicey side of town; she didn’t try to stop me - she saw how excited I was about my first place.

I share all of this - about myself - to showcase what I believe characterizes excellent mothering: my memories of pivotal moments have never been colored by what she wanted or held to be important. With my mom, her encouragement to be myself often came in the form of what she didn’t say. As I age, I see the strength that restraint illustrated.

I have a deep gratitude for the gift of being born to my parents; I’m aware that many of us don’t have the same experience that I did. On this Mother’s Day weekend, I encourage you to reflect and hope you can find there was at least one woman who showed you the same loud love, born in silence.