Maternal sounded like a better choice of words, but I don’t feel like the word maternal is a true representation. I always loved babies but I never gravitated towards them when they entered a room. I was no master at coo-ing and parentese and I was certainly in no rush to be the first to pick them up. The mother in me arose a different way.
I have always been the person in the group to take care of people, of things and of plans. I was the warm words of advice and the harsh words of truth. The cook, the taxi and the emergency bank. There was always a sofa to crash on and a shoulder to cry on, all whilst my tears remained behind closed doors.
I like to feed. Nothing makes me happier than seeing people enjoying the food I cook. I like to help people and see people succeed as a result, but still, I would wonder, why was it always me picking up the pieces? Why I was the one putting others back together while I was left broken? It always felt natural to ‘mother’ but it wouldn’t fill the void. I felt empty and unfulfilled like there was a huge hole that would always remain. I was a mother without a child.
So where am I now? The workaholic in me quit. There’s no longer time for spontaneity. And I am no longer ‘motherly’, I am simply a mother. No longer broken, no longer empty. So now you’ll have to look after yourself for I have a much bigger purpose in life.