Daughter

I've always been close with my mom.

My mother is very maternal. When my brothers and I were growing up, she was a homemaker, who also ran a daycare out of the house. She was incredibly nurturing, almost to a fault. She made breakfast for us before school, all through high school, she was my Girl Scout troop leader, she drove us to after school activities, cried when we learned to drive for ourselves. She baked and cooked dinner each night. She sewed my prom dress. We talked about everything. I told her about all my boyfriends. She knew all my friends. She gave me advice and helped me make big decisions.

But like many mother-daughter relationships, we had our waves of turmoil. Ours included the stereotypical teenage rebellion, except mine was a few years late in my early 20's and I don't think my mom was even aware it was happening. I lived at home during college, so I had some freedom, but I'm sure she and father weren't totally aware of my social engagements. As I started to form my own ideas and individual identity, I had to pull away from my family in general, but especially my mom. It was very difficult; I realized just how much I relied on her to help me make even small life decisions. Part of becoming an adult for me was pulling away from her completely, making my own path, deciding where my values and perspectives differed from hers and which I would adopt as my own.

Recently though, I've been lucky enough to reconnect with my mother as an adult woman.

This past autumn, I came out to my mother, and by extension most of my family, as bisexual. She actually asked me point blank about it - over the phone - while I was at work (can't you just see me squirming in my ergonomically-correct desk chair??). I always told myself, if anyone ever asked me point blank, I would tell them the truth. So I told her. I later was congratulated by a number of people for telling her the truth. For me, I never even considered hiding it. I had my chance now, to let her back into my personal life. I was mature and confident in my life choices and my understanding of my "self" and I just told her, right there, while I tried to continuing typing away at my spreadsheet. Being able to open my life back up to my mother as her adult-daughter, was a really big step for me. Since then, we've had a number of conversations in regards to my lifestyle, values and worldview. She's expressed her unconditional love for me and while she might not agree with them, she accepts my choices and she will always be a safe place to hide.

In February, my mother was leaving work for her lunch break and she tripped and fell, shattering her elbow on her dominant arm. She had to have rather serious, invasive surgery to rebuild the bone, doing a graft from her hip. I knew the severity of the surgery. I planned to go to the hospital the morning of with my grandmother and my father. During the wait, they were both saying how they had trouble sleeping, they we're so worried about her. I slept fine - and I began to feel guilty for not being more worried. I realized that, up until that point, I'd never considered that my mom wouldn't be just fine. She was my mom. A superhero. Also, never having had surgery, I had no idea what to expect once I saw her in recovery. My mom was in so much pain. She was beyond groggy, my dad was giving her ice chips, my grandma was fretting with a flower arrangement, and I was trying to stay out of the way, not really sure what to do. I noticed her lips were dry, which is a side effect of anesthesia. I happened to have a container of Eucerin cream in my handbag, which I proceeded to rub on her on her mouth for her. I remember holding my breath, thinking Someday she might need me like this all the time. Someday I might need to be the mom.

Back home it was difficult for everyone. There she was, my mom, so vulnerable and in need of assistance to do the most basic things. She couldn't even dress herself. She has experienced some complications as well, needing to go back into surgery again to remove some infected tissue, which put back her recovery a bit. She's just begun physical therapy now. She's making progress.

I was having lunch with her a few weeks ago and she got emotional. She said she's so afraid of things now. She's afraid of walking around outside, afraid she might fall again. She said when my father is home, she feels safe, he's her rock, her haven. She told me she feels that way when I'm around too. I then realized a new, special part of being someone's child is also being able to be the parent now and again. I'm proud to call myself her daughter. I am lucky that she lets me be her safe place to hide too.