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room. Everything was going fine until the doctor realized that the baby was face up. Usually in these circumstances, an emergency cesarean is required, but it was too late for that. My pain medication had worn off and I honestly started praying to die. I didn't think there was any way possible this baby was going to come out.
In my pain-induced delirious state, there was one thing I remember most and that's looking up at my mom's face. The look in her eyes was sheer terror. I knew at that moment that I had to pull myself together and deliver that child. I remember thinking it had only been a couple of months since we lost my uncle. There was no way my mom could have tolerated the loss of her only child. By the grace of God, my son was born healthy and I made it through, but only because of my mom. If she hadn't been there for me, I wouldn't be here to write this right now.

Not only did my mom do all that in the last couple of years, but she did it while battling her own illnesses. Like me, she suffers from Lupus, a debilitating disease that makes you suffer from chronic fatigue. She also has achalaysia, a rare disease that causes her esophagus to close up. She's gone through countless procedures that stretch her esophagus just so she can eat. But most of the procedures don't help.

She's had to modify her diet. She can only eat certain things now. Food was one of her main joys in life. She never smoked or drank alcohol. When I asked her why she never tried those things, she said, "It's not right to do that stuff and I might have liked it. Since I haven't tried it, I don't know what I'm missing." So her love is for food. But now, she can't eat most of her favorite meals.

When she was taking care of our sick family, they always came first, no matter how sick or tired she felt. She never complained either. I could tell by the look on her face when her chest was hurting from lifting those wheelchairs. I could see how tired she was in her eyes. When I told her that she needed to take care of herself, too, she would firmly tell me: "If it's meant for me to die by taking care of my family, then that's how I'll go." I knew better than to argue with her.

My mom is an inspiration to me. She has shown me through her actions how a mother should be. A mother should always put her family first before everything else, even herself. That's what my mom has done.

I'll be thirty years old this year and I'm always realizing what a great mom she is and has been to me. Because of my mom, I could read at the tender age of five. Throughout my school years, I could count on her to bring me anything I had left at home. All my friends have said, "Mona is so cool." And it's not because she'd let us get away with stuff, oh no! It was because she cooked for them.

When I got pregnant at the age of sixteen, she didn't make me get married and she didn't make me have an abortion. She was there for me. She helped raise my daughter while I continued school. Without my mom, I would have never graduated high school with a 4.3 grade point average.

Now that she's not as healthy as she once was, I take her to her doctor appointments. When she needs something, I'm there for her. Some people say "I'm like my mother!" with resentment. I only hope that one day I can say it and it actually is true. There is no other person I'd rather confide in, have lunch with, or just drive around in the car with than my mother. She's my best friend and my heroine.

Learn more about this author, Wendy Brock.
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