05/10/2026
It's Mother's Day, and I've been thinking about all of it. The mothers who made us, the mothers we became, the ones we've lost. Here is some of what came through.
I entered the world a scrawny, red-haired little thing, into the arms of a nurse, and then my birthmother, before starting out on a journey no one would willingly choose. I was born in a Florence Crittenton home in Georgetown. A large, imposing three-story brownstone. When you entered, you most likely did not leave until your entire life had been altered, one way or another.
Later, when my birthmother wrote to me, she told me about the pain of deciding whether to keep me or give me up. She didn't think she could keep me, even though she said it was her greatest wish. She made a bargain with God. She would do what she had to do to give me a better life, if he let her know, through the years, that everything was alright with me. She felt a great sense of peace.
I have made my own bargains. Sometimes it's the only way to move ahead.
She held me twelve times. She talked to me as she held me, told me how loved I was. The last time was when I was baptized.
I have felt that love my whole life. Her bargain held. The love she poured into me in those twelve times has never left. It traveled with me, into every set of arms that came after.
Months later, I went home with my new parents, and the love I received was so big and so joyful, I know it shaped me into the woman I am today. Later I received the best gift. Two sisters almost twenty years older than me. Two more mother figures. More warmth, more love.
So much love has been given, in so many forms. Sisters, aunties, grandmothers, friends, mentors.
I believe mothering is an action, more than a bloodline. I watch my daughters love each other's children. I watched my daughter-in-law today, soothing her niece in her arms. Children handed from heart to heart. The aunties, the sisters, the friends who show up. It is all the same thing. A nurturing. And I don't think it ever ends.
I mother my children, even as they mother their own. You are one of the few people who has known them their entire life. That doesn't stop mattering. I mother my grandchildren with fresh eyes. Another chance. I mother my students. I mother my animals. Sleepless nights worrying about the swans in the blizzard last winter, the goslings with their parents. It is who I am, and I'm glad of it.
There are days I look back and think "I wish I had." Or "I wish I hadn't."
We all do that. There is no perfect mom. I only know that I love them with all my heart. Four glorious children, seven beautiful grandchildren, four really cute goats, two incorrigible swans, two feisty cats, and the countless unique souls who come into the studio.
I'm so lucky. So grateful. Every day.
