A story about the No.1 lady in my life.

Lillian Bailey 

 

There's a special lady in most people's lives that has been around through it all. She was the first person you made eye contact with. She's been the one to care for you when you were throwing up out of your nose. She was the one who you trusted with that big secret that your dad or other siblings could never know about. This person is your mom.

 

My mom and I have had a typical mother-daughter relationship for most of my life. When I was little, she was always there when I scraped my knees up. She was always there when I was crying about my older sisters holding me down and tickling me (and writing obscene words on my stomach when I was sleeping). My mom was, and still is, my protector. My security blanket. My friend. I was, and still am, her baby. Her world. Her friend.

 

When I got older, though, her long hours at work really took a toll on our relationship. I missed out on a lot of quality bonding time we should have had because of her crazy hours. I fell back on my dad a lot, but he didn't quite understand the changes that were happening in my life and to my body. My sisters are roughly nine years older than me and already out of the house by the time I hit puberty, so essentially, I was alone. I felt like my mom didn't really care about my life, and I resented her for that. I guess this kind of helped my relationship with my ailing father, but it was the relationship with my mother that I craved so much and I never really got that. I would watch my friends interact with their moms and be utterly green with jealousy. Why didn't I have that?