by Mnena Towns

 ”Yes! That is my mother, always putting me 1^st before herself; she has lost herself while changing her priorities, goals and choices to accommodate the new role she has to play.”

“Who sat and watched my infant head, when sleeping in my cradle bed…my mother”. This is one of the few songs I know about mothers. By the time you finish reading this article, you might agree with me that song writers should write more, but before that, let’s go back to the beginning, before there was an infant and a cradle to watch.

She was happily married to the love of her life, but was she really? Every month, she peed on the stick, there was a red negative mark telling her “the bundle of joy you have been expecting is delayed, try again next month”. Months went by, and after so much prayer and fasting and several visits to the doctor, I was finally formed and all she could think of from that point on was “At last! I can also be called a mother just like Sarah and Hannah”. Did she bargain for the next 9months of torment that she would face? Did it ever occur to her that for some months in her life she would not be able to eat her favourite food, because the smell of it made her puke? How about the fact that her lovely hour glass figure would disappear? and her figure would be replaced with something in the semblance of an elephant or an amoeba, lying in one particular position, so that the little bun in the oven would be comfortable.

Finally, the D-day arrived. All the books and researches didn’t tell her how much pain she would feel trying to birth me. Her screams were of pain but also of triumph, her cries were for the strength she tried to summon, for the little innocent one that was about to make her debut; “I am a mother, I have to be strong for my daughter” was the only thought in her head as she obeyed the doctor’s instruction of “one last push” and Voilà! She heard cries from the most adorable voice that would be her pride and joy forever, that moment was priceless.

I would say she was happier before all of these changes began to take place, but she says she was miserable without me, that all she went through to have me was totally worth it and she would do it 4 more times to give me siblings that I now can’t imagine my life without. They became my best friends and closest companions. Yes! That is my mother, always putting me 1^st before herself; she has lost herself while changing her priorities, goals and choices to accommodate the new role she has to play.

She learnt on the job because I was her first job experience, but she did it perfectly; bathing, nursing and caring for me, asking for nothing in return except the joy she felt from loving me. Need I mention my teenage tantrums? That is a different ball game all together, yet her love never gave up on me. She was there when I had my 1^st period, went on my 1^st date; and slowly before her eyes, I matured into a woman that will make an impact to her generation.

How do I begin to repay all that? Her priceless sacrifices, the sleepless nights that have become compulsory night vigils; and having to bear the shame and insults when I misbehave as it’s often said, “a bad child is a mother’s, but the good one is a father’s pride”. She is my movie director, my greatest cheerleader; Every trophy, every Oscar I win, is dedicated to her for the roles I played well with her assistance, encouragement and continuous support.

I’m sure every quality I shared about my mom fits closely the description you would give of yours. And why am I not surprised? Because it is from the maternal instincts deposited in every woman from creation, so yes! When I brag about my mom, I brag about myself as well because someday, I will step into those shoes and only then will I understand why she chose to love me even when I didn’t know how to reciprocate her love.

Dedicated to all mothers out there, we may not always say it, but we feel much more than words can express.

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Mnena Towns is a great writer with vast imaginative ability.

30 Days, 30 Voices series is an opportunity for young Nigerians from across the world to share their stories and experiences – creating a meeting point where our common humanity is explored.

Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija