What losing my mom taught me about motherhood
Kari Kampakis
When I was a high school senior, I came home from school one day and saw new dresses on my bed.
I didn’t know the reason, but since I was always up for new clothes, I didn’t complain.
They were classic 1990 — shoulder pads, bright colors, polka dots — and my mom explained how I’d need these dresses when I went through sorority rush. For the last hurrah, Serious Night, she found my favorite dress, a hot pink cocktail dress with black geometric cutouts. It was different yet stylish, a dress that I anticipated wearing at the end of a big week.
I felt good in these dresses as I went through rush that summer in the blazing Alabama heat. However, when my mom presented them, I am sure I flippantly replied, “Okay, thanks.” I didn’t give those dresses a second thought until a few years ago, when my teenage daughter was asked to homecoming.
Due to school and other demands, she didn’t have time to shop, so I spent hours looking online and sending her links. It took a lot of effort to find a dress we agreed on — and after that, I realized how she also needed shoes and earrings.
As I searched local boutiques, I laughed because I felt like a personal concierge. My daughter had no clue how much time I had invested in this gig — and that is when it hit me. That is when I remembered the dresses that magically appeared on my bed, the ones I barely appreciated and that probably took a chunk out of my mom’s paycheck. Knowing her, she took off a half day of work to find dresses that made me feel confident.
She knew what I needed before I knew what I needed, and what looked like just a dress was really an act of love with a lot of heart behind it.
Every Christmas brings up similar memories of my mom. She was always thinking one step ahead, getting me what I needed for the next stage of life. In high school and college, I mainly got clothes, but as I graduated and began working, she added in gifts like a leather portfolio, a nice coat or household essentials like towels and kitchen skillets for her domestically challenged daughter. As Harry and I dated and got more serious, she gifted me beautiful Christmas ornaments or entertaining pieces.
Looking back, it wasn’t the size or price of her gifts that left an impression, but rather, the thought. My mom stayed mindful about my stage of life — and what might I need or appreciate in the near future.
As I’ve mentioned before, my mom passed away last year. During her final years, she had health issues, yet what I’m grateful for are my realizations during this time about her quiet acts of love. Some aspects of motherhood you simply don’t get until you reach that point yourself, and after shopping for my daughter’s homecoming attire, I thanked my mom for the many times that she took care of my needs without notice.
I also felt some guilt. Especially in my mom’s last week of her life, I dwelled on the times that I didn’t give her enough credit — or see her as a real person, beyond her role as a mom.
Many thoughts came crashing down during that week, and I used my car rides to Tuscaloosa to talk through them with friends. One profound conversation occurred with my friend Jennifer, who has lost both her parents.
As I told Jennifer about my guilt, the regret that was eating me up, she assured me that I’d been a great daughter and my mother knew I loved her. She reminded me that the parent/child relationship is not an equal relationship, and as much as I loved my mother, I could never possibly love her as much as she loved me.
“It can be a very one-sided relationship,” she said, “just like your relationship with your girls, because that is how parenting works.”
I realized then what makes a mother’s love special. I missed my mom already because she loved me unconditionally, even at my worst, and was always waiting with her arms wide open for me to love her back.
Now, it is my turn — and your turn — to offer this gift to our kids. Even if they don’t love us back, or see our sacrifices, we can faithfully stay the course of loving them with all our heart. One day, when they are parents, they may better understand us. And even if they don’t, we can find peace in knowing that we did what we were called to do.
If your mother is still alive, thank her for her quiet acts of love. Thank God for the gift of memories that allows us to see our past through new eyes. Give your mom credit for what she did right, and get to know her life story to understand her decisions. As parents, we do the best we can with what we know at the time, and just as we hope that our grown children will give us grace, we can do the same.
Thanks to my mom, I no longer doubt my value as a mom. I no longer wonder if the mundane things I do matter, because I know firsthand how it’s a million mundane things that leaves a mother’s fingerprints all over a child’s life. Whether my mom was leaving a new dress on my bed, picking out my future husband as he walked down the pier at the beach, consoling me when I was upset, encouraging me to be creative, or giving me advice before my first day of work, she always knew what I needed before I knew it myself.
So to my fellow mom friends, know that your heart and intuition make you irreplaceable. Nobody on earth cares about (or tends to) the details of your children’s lives quite like you. The seeds of love that you plant now may go unnoticed for years, but I promise they are taking root. They are sinking into the memory bank of your children. And when all is said and done, it may be your quiet acts of love that no one appreciated at the time that become the memories they cling to most.
Kari Kubiszyn Kampakis is a Birmingham-area mom of four girls, author, speaker and blogger. Her new book for moms, “Love Her Well: 10 Ways to Find Joy and Connection With Your Teenage Daughter,” is now available on Amazon. Audible, and everywhere books are sold. Kari’s two books for teen & tween girls — “Liked” and “10 Ultimate Truths Girls Should Know” — have been used widely across the country for small group studies. Join Kari on Facebook and Instagram, visit her blog at karikampakis.com, or find her on the Girl Mom Podcast.
