For two years, one medical problem after another had finally brought me low enough to need hospitalization. It was a trauma for the entire family. I had never been sick before. Not this way. Doctors, nurses, insurance and hospital beds. Never ending it seemed to me. As I lay in bed on the 5th floor of the hospital, I sunk into a deep depression.
My daughter brought me home. She brought food into the house and checked on me daily. She talked about minor things and kept me occupied. Then came Mother’s Day. I felt so embarrassed when she brought in the huge decor box filled with “girly” gifts. All the other Mother’s days I felt it was ok to honor me. That I had done a good job. I was pleased with the past years job I had done.
But this year? No. I had been a burden and of no help to anyone. And now I was depressed and without any energy. It felt unbalanced somehow. What was I getting thanked for this year? Just a trouble maker is all.
Sarah gleefully helped me unwrap her gifts and the last item in the box was a tiny book. The title was “Mom You Rule!”. I picked it up to read and a woman’s voice shouted out, “You go girl!” We both cracked up and I pushed the book’s button several more times as we laughed. My daughter actually thought there was something left in me that could “go girl”. Amazing.
I loved the humorous sentiments written in this little book, so I put it into my purse and carried it with me.
The first time I realized this cheering book was going to be very important to me was a week later as I was struggling to get my weakened body out of my car. I must have pressed on the entire purse because out of my purse came that voice telling me, “You go girl!”
I laughed out loud and said, “Ok, I will.” Instead of the grimace I had had on my face, I was smiling and I got out of the car by myself.
It has been years now and that booklet is so precious to me. I am no longer ashamed at the turn of the mother-daughter relationship. I went back to being her mother of course, but now we are friends. Grown up women, supporting each other. I had stood by her during her teenhood and she had nurtured me back to the land of the living when I was older. Now we walk together, shoulder to shoulder. Even strides with a tiny voice crying out every once in a while from my purse, “You go girl!”
Someday I will tell you what happened to the “You go girl” mini-book five years after she gave it to me.