It's mother's day today and I'm sure many mothers in Malaysia are given treats and gifts on this special occasion. Interestingly enough, there are 27 Mother’s Day this year because different countries honour their mothers on different days.
Since I live in two countries I get to celebrate it twice so to speak. But to me everyday is Mother’s Day because it is a privilege to be one.
I came home recently to Malaysia because my son Samuel had to undergo a knee operation due to sport injury. My trips back home usually involve a lot of travelling and feasting but this time round I was home bound for the most part of my stay but it was still very satisfying to cook, clean and nurse.
It was nice to go to a wet market and choose fresh produce - the sights and smells - something that I hadn’t experienced for a while. It was lovely to get back to my spacious kitchen and use my familiar pots and pans again. The gas stove was still standing strong.
King Solomon in all his wisdom had written many proverbs about the good wife and mother.
She is priceless above rubies. She is industrious and ensures that there is food on the table. She invests wisely and helps the needy. She is clothed with strength and dignity and she hopes in the future. She speaks with wisdom and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
Many of us mothers are such.
We emulate the good practices that our own mothers have done for us and in many ways we try to do more. Giving and sacrifice are almost natural traits in us. Most mothers worry from time to time although we try to put on a brave face regardless of whether the son is a baby or a 28 year old.
My mother was the mother of all worriers. Her anxiety came from deep within which I believe was due to her environment and life experiences. She was one of those who thought that worrying was a way of showing love and care. But sometimes being on the receiving end of listening to her worries made it difficult to see that as a sign of caring. Instead it became my job to take care of the worrier - to reassure her that I could handle my problems. Thus there were many times that I withheld information from her so that she didn’t have to worry.
The heart line between a mother and child is so great that it transcends distance.
How many times had I awaken in the middle of the night sensing that my child was having a difficult time whether in Dublin or in Kuala Lumpur? How many times had I rejoiced in my heart for my child before something great actually happened? And how many times had I shed tears and grieve within, knowing that there would be impending sorrow? Interestingly enough, this also works both ways. I’ve had my children calling me and asking me whether something was amidst because there was this ‘discomfort in their gut’ even when I never told them so.
I have people look at me and wonder whether I’m doing my ‘job’ as a mother because I don’t seem to worry as much as they do.
What helps me to worry less is a sense of trust and communication.
Knowing that my children are independent and are able to make sensible choices helps me to step back at times and let the course of action or consequence unravel. I have also learnt how to accept it when my advice is not taken. I don’t believe in nagging or being a helicopter parent.
Painful though it is, I allow my children to make mistakes. We cannot protect them from every potential threat and neither should we do all the thinking for them.
Through prayers, I also place my trust in my Creator and that gives me a lot of peace. I exchange dark emotional clouds hovering over me and a sense of panic with conversation, support and shared beliefs. My child’s pain is my pain but being there for a child (whether in person or in cyberspace) when he needs it most breaks anxiety. And I’m not only talking about physical pain but also emotional pain.
Sometimes we worry because we think that no one can do the job as efficiently as ourselves. It is most helpful to be surrounded by good service providers. I trust the knowledgeable surgeon, the caring relatives and the good friends that I know would also look out for my son.
At the end of my stay, I flew back to Ireland, happy that Samuel is on the way to recovery. I also held a hand sewn quilt that I had completed while the patient was asleep.
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA ON 13 MAY 2018 https://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnists/2018/05/368861/unconditional-love-mothe
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