Courtesy of Melissa Noble
I've always loved my mom dearly, but after I had kids, I found I felt even closer to her. I never thought that having a baby would change my relationship with my own mother, but it did.
Growing up, my mom was the warm, fun, cuddly sort of mom who was always heavily interested in us four kids. We always knew we were loved fiercely and unconditionally.
I vividly recall lying in bed as a child, waiting for her to come and say goodnight. She would appear at my bedside and smother me in hundreds of kisses while I giggled and said, "Stop, Momma."
When I was little, life was always a great adventure with my mom. There were spontaneous trips to the drive-in movies. Fun family barbecues and mud flights at the local lake.
In my 20s, I wanted to stretch my wings, so I moved overseas from Australia to Canada, and then to London. I didn't see my mom for several years, and while I missed her, I was busy doing my own thing and seeing the world.
When I returned to Australia at 29 and had my first child at age 30, she offered to come and help. I was living in Melbourne then, so she flew down from the Gold Coast, where I grew up, and stayed with my husband and me for seven weeks.
I realized during that time just how much I still needed her. Navigating parenthood for the first time really does rock your world, but having someone to support you who has walked that road before makes a world of difference.
In those first few weeks after our son was born, mom was a powerhouse of energy. She cooked us meals, rocked my son to sleep, and counseled me when I cried about my post-childbirth body.
When I felt completely shattered from sleep deprivation and like I couldn't cope, she would take the baby out for a walk and tell me to catch up on some sleep. On days that I needed cheering up, she'd say, "Get dressed, honey. I'm taking you to lunch."
I remember watching her burping my son over her knee one morning in our little flat, and feeling like I was seeing her through fresh eyes, almost as if for the first time. Suddenly, I felt like I understood her better.
I could finally relate to the boundless love that comes with becoming a parent. My husband always says my mom is my greatest ally and will defend me to the death, even when I'm clearly in the wrong. Finally, I got it. She loved me unconditionally, just like I loved my son.
I thought about the many sacrifices mom had made for me and my siblings so that we could have a better life. Growing up, she never blew money on herself. She didn't wear name-brand clothes or have the flashiest furniture or cars. But somehow, she and my dad always found money for us kids, whether we needed it for orthodontics, acne treatments, or our many hobbies.
When it was finally time for Mom to head home and I was driving her to the airport, I felt terrified. I didn't know how I would manage without her.
"I don't want you to go," I said, tears streaming down my cheeks as I hugged her goodbye. "It's time, honey. I'm only a phone call away. You'll be OK," she said, and then she was gone.
Mom was right, of course. I was OK in the end. She'd held my hand through one of the most life-changing experiences there is, and she'd helped me find my way. Just as she did when I was a child.
