Happy Birthday, Nonni!

I think I am on pretty firm ground when I make the statement that the mother-daughter relationship is among the most complex emotional and interpersonal experience known to humanity (please note I did not say "man"). It is in this relationship that we, as women see (in both directions) our greatest strengths, most embarrassing weaknesses, best support, fiercest critic, source of redemption and opportunity for failure more than anywhere else. It is in this relationship that we define who we are, who we will endeavor never to be, and who we will invariably become. In cases where the physical resemblance is particularly strong, there is an added element of difficulty in separating "self" from "role" in this relationship. Yet, it is a relationship that is of unmitigated importance in the life of women. Even when the role is violated in heinous and unthinkable ways as I sometimes see in my line of work, every woman I work with must deal with the mother-daughter relationship and how best to thrive either because of or in spite of it.

Thankfully, in my personal narrative, I can say that I thrive because of my relationship with the exceptional woman I call my mother. While I am, by no means blind to her imperfections (as some would accuse me), I fully and wholly appreciate what she has done for me throughout the course of my life. Quite simply, there is no other relationship in my life that I can say is based on someone who loves me and wants to see the best for me in all situations. The expression of that love is sometimes skewed. That distortion, however, by no means negates the heart of affection that motivated the expression.

As I prepare for my own journey through motherhood, I am thankful for the example my mother set, mindful of the pitfalls I want to avoid, and hopeful for the mistakes I will invariably make. I know that as surely as my mother and I have experienced growing pains at other stages in our lives, we are going to experience them again - especially when I mention my intention to use cloth diapers. However, this relationship is sustaining, nonetheless. And, as my mother took her charge in raising me seriously and executed it with aplomb, I feel confident in my ability to make decisions and disagree with her - the best gift a mother can give to her child.

Today is my mother's birthday. While I will abstain from naming the exact number of her years in public, I will say that she is old enough to dispense wisdom, but far too young to be an archetypical grandmother. In celebration of this woman, I am going to focus on the positive and list a few of the reasons I am thankful for her presence in my life and the life of the little boy yet to come...

1. My mother made sure I knew who I am. She told me stories of my family's past and made sure my relationship with those generations who came before was vibrant and alive. She introduced me to the tastes, smells, and feelings of my heritage and let me know that these things coalesced into making me a healthy, promising woman who had much expected of her.

2. My mother exempted me from some significantly negative things about our family's past. In a family where women can still be yelled at for walking between men and their football game as they wander to the kitchen to get those same men a snack, my mother worked hard to make sure she raised me knowing that the world was as much mine as my brother's or cousin's or any male relative's. She never let me be limited by the ethnic barriers which prevented her from becoming the UN translator she once wanted to be and forced her to apologize on her way to the snacks.

3. My mother kicked my butt. It's still hard to be thankful for this one, but my mother had several rules designed to kick my butt. If I woke up and felt ill, I still had to get out of bed, shower, and get ready for school. If it became overly apparent that I was, truly, ill, she would come get me from school or exempt me as needed. However, I had to get up and try. The same was true for food. I was always allowed to dislike anything I chose, but I was not allowed to decide until I tried it. Some things can be scary for a child - but, I had to cope at an early age. This skill has actually served me well through my life, although I was not a fan of it at an early age.

4. My mother did my makeup and took me to ballet. Knowing that I would grow up to be short and chubby, she still allowed me to dream. She drew the line at allowing me to make "being a Rockette" a life ambition, but she supported me nonetheless.

5. My mother was always available, but never useless as she waited to be called upon. I cannot ever remember a time when I was sick or in need that my mother was not available. However, she always maintained a job and brought money into our household so that my father was equally available to us and never unnecessarily strained in maintaining our growing family. Never once in my life did my mother linger in bed or stay in pajamas or fail to clean the house and prepare hearty food for all of us any time we needed. Never once did she exempt herself from contribution on a larger scale, even though our family and needs were, without a doubt, the main priority.

6. My mother let me see her flaws. She cried in front of me and let me know when she was frustrated. When we moved to Europe and she was homesick and not so thrilled with how things were panning out, I saw that. By the same token, she protected me from the more heated exchanges between her and other adults when possible. I don't fear my own flaws as much thanks to my mother's transparency.

7. My mother hugged me. She's hugged me throughout my life. However, there are times where the hug was more memorable than others: the first night I spent in my dorm room and realized I had bitten off more than I could chew; the day I cried because I saw her fight with my grandparents over something they said in my presence; the day I came home and my great-grandmother had passed away while I was gone; when I was scared as we walked through Dachau; when Nathaniel and I had that pre-wedding fight that is terrifying; when I got accepted to college; when she left me in Miami; when I came home from Miami; when I left for Boston; when I came home from Boston; when I got to hold Emory for the first time; after I said goodbye to Emory in December; when I held Elizabeth for the first time; after I said goodbye to Elizabeth in December; when I had 3 positive pregnancy tests lined up on a bathroom sink ledge and felt terrified. She hugged me.

8. My mother chose my father and continues to love him. And together, they allow me to see that roses and hearts and whispering sweet nothings are not that which truly sustain a marriage - hard work, devotion, and careful prioritization does.

9. I know what I will look like in 22 years thanks to her.

10. The 12039447566829349145745608923489578965429 other things I have neither the time nor energy to list.

I know that most women who are afforded a childhood and mother-daughter relationship such as mine feel similarly about their mothers. On this day, however, March 2, I choose to take the time to be thankful for my mother and the uniqueness that is our relationship, and to be hopeful for that which is yet to come.