by Judy Zabriskie

Created on: April 13, 2011   Last Updated: August 09, 2011

My son has turned 21 and therefore I am no longer playing the role of “mother” but more of mentor, confidante, advisor and friend.  This to me is both sad and enlightening as I coveted my title of “mother” but am happy to move on, eventually watching my son become a parent.  Being a mother meant giving up my identity and assuming that of caretaker of a new life – watching, nurturing, guiding, loving, well you name it – just about everything one does to make sure this child gets the start he  or she deserves in life.  Having pretty much raised myself since age 6 (the time my younger and more coveted sister came along) I craved the attention and love that only a mother could provide a child, therefore I gave my all to my child, forgoing my own goals and dreams, life as it were, so that he could flourish and prosper, becoming the superb young man he has become today. 

I miss “me” of yesterday but quite honestly, after 21 years I am not sure who that “me” is any longer.  Somewhere along the line I lost sight of my goals and objectives and made sure this child was going to bring to the Universe everything he was capable of contributing.  Along with that aspect there was the nurturing, loving, what seemed like endless doctor and dental appointments, tutors, plays, sporting events and the SHOES. It seemed like every time there was a growth spurt there were new shoes to buy.  I guess I became kind of a connoisseur of shoes.  But the hugs and kisses, handmade mother’s day gifts and Christmas gifts during the younger years and the superb acting performances in school plays along with the Honor Roll, almost perfect College Board scores and a generous college scholarship more than made up for my endeavors and that which I thought I had given up to raise this boy.

Now that we are at the crossroads with him graduating from college and moving on to graduate school and me older and wiser but really without direction I find it is time for me to reflect on all that was mine during those eventful 21 years.  I cried at the tragedies and relished the triumphs. I am proud of his accomplishments and my accomplishment of raising him to 21 (I used to tell everyone that I hoped I didn’t kill him off before he turned 18.)  So, I guess in retrospect, being a mother to me is a sense of pride accomplishment, receiving the greatest gift one could possibly imagine but now it is time to pass that torch and to rediscover myself as a singular being. I will ALWAYS be his mother and he will ALWAYS be my baby (even when he is 50) but without knowing it he has given me all that life can give a person – unconditional love, the pride of “ownership” one takes in accomplishing a great task and that which is learned from being totally unselfish and putting someone else’s needs and desires before your own.  I guess you could say that being a mother has meant everything to me.

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