Possibly the strongest moment of motherhood I have ever felt must be the hours of some really mighty contractions knocking me off during labour. On a scale of one to ten, the pain must have reached forty one by then that I was giving up to it, that I could barely open my eyes, it felt like I was reaching a point of unconsciousness. And then I heard my mother's voice. I felt her soft touch. I still could not open my eyes and was still clenching my fists succumbing to the pain. But beyond all that, my head could process my mother's soothing voice. Or maybe my heart did.
It was no different to when I was seven on the first week of school and had a pack of french toasts made with such great affection by my mother. Or when I got home from high school after a giggly conversation with my girlfriends only to find another girlfriend waiting for me at home - my gorgeous mother. Her love would always find a way to embrace me in all the right corners and in the most amazing ways. So did this time. Her love was lingering all around the labour room. And I clung on to it with the only part of me that could still muster some strength - my heart.
It is beautiful how a mother's love would never leave our sides. At a time when I was about to welcome motherhood into my life, my mother's love so simply taught me its meaning.
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