Palindrome

Mom. The word mom is a palindrome. A palindrome is a word or phrase, which reads the same in both directions. It is derived from the Greek palindromos, meaning running back again. Didn’t the father in My Big Fat Greek Wedding say that the root of every word is Greek? I guess he was right.

It makes sense that mom is a palindrome; it should be the example- the mother of all palindromes, don’t you think?

Mom begins life and life begins mom. That’s a palindrome sentence. It’s also a true statement.

My Mom-

Sweet Sylvia. Funny lady, my mom. My main gal. The one who’s always there for me, anywhere, anytime. Sylvia started “late in life” getting married and having children. Of course, what was considered late in life in 1952 was 28 years old. Lindsay will be almost 28 when she gets married, but in 2010, that’s considered just about right. Funny how things change.

Sylvia was told by her doctor, sometime in 1953, that she probably wouldn’t be able to have any children, after unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant. She went home, dejected, and decided with George (my dad) that they would just go on and make a life without kids. Doctors can be wrong, though, and in April 1954, Sylvia had Marjorie, a strawberry blonde, green- eyed little girl, inheriting my father’s fair features. Then in April 1956, she had me- dark like her- black hair, dark brown eyes. Claire was born on my birthday (never forgave her) in 1958. Three girls in a row; the April girls.

Genevieve, our next-door neighbor and mom’s good friend, had four kids. When her youngest was born, I begged my mother to have another baby. I remember it well. I was by the stove while Mom was cooking, pleading with her to have a baby. “No,” she told me, “three is enough.” The next thing I recall was being in the car with my parents, returning from the doctor and trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Mom was upset, but I sort of got the gist. “Are you having another baby?” I asked, excitedly. “Yes,” she said impatiently, while she was deeply embroiled in the discussion with my dad. I was elated. I kind of got that Mom was not. That’s because she was scared. She was pregnant, but also had a tumor, which she carried along with the baby for nine months. In April 1962, my brother, Martin, Sylvia’s miracle boy, was born. He was over eight pounds; the tumor was the size of a grapefruit. But all was well. And my dad smiled from ear to ear. I could touch that smile; it is so vivid in my memory.

Four kids and my mom; we were her life. I knew that. And through most of it, she had her mom, Grandma Fanny, living with us. She took care of her mom and us. Her life began with us- the life she always wanted- to be a mother. It was her job- basically her only job. She will tell us stories, new stories all the time about her life before us. They are wonderful stories- but to me- my mom will always be my mom and that is where her life began for me. Mom begins life.

Me, a Mom?

I remember the day that I told my mom that I would probably not ever have children. I said to her “looking at young girls wheeling babies in carriages depresses me.” I could just picture the puzzled expression on her face. But she didn’t dissuade me; she just said, “Okay. Whatever you want. Just make sure you finish college and are able to support yourself- whether you have children or not.” Best advice she ever gave me. She always listened carefully, never really told me what to do; just planted seeds. She was a seed-planting mom.

Well the rest is history. I met Mark, fell in love, got married and my life began again when I found out I was pregnant. Three months later, I began to bleed heavily and thought for sure I had miscarried. I went to the doctor and after the examination he told me that the pregnancy was probably terminated. He sent me for a sonogram to check further. In 1982 you had to wait to go for a sonogram, which was usually done in the hospital. I had to wait two long days. In those two days, my pants wouldn’t close and on the night before the sonogram, I felt a strange sensation in my stomach, like butterflies. But I still believed what the doctor told me- there was no baby anymore. Doctors can be wrong, though. And while the technician was doing the sonogram, she said, perfunctorily, “there’s the baby’s heart, beating.” “What baby?” I said, shocked. “Your baby,” she laughed. Life begins mom.

On September 19, 1982, my life began as a mom to Lindsay and on August 1, 1986, my life began as a mom to Kimberly. I had a life before. It was a good life. This one is better. I am blessed.

I found the first Mother’s Day card I ever got that was hand-made by Lindsay. It said “Happy Mother’s Day” on the front. She put dots on the bottom of all the letters to make the print fancier and glued on colored glitter in the shape of hearts. Inside it said:

Thank for…giving me what I really need and that’s a hug I love you

To: Mom

and for…buying what I need

and for…giving me love and care.

and for….helping me with my homework.

and for….kissing my boo-boo

and for…Taking me to school from: Lindsay

Lindsay and Kimberly…thank you for giving me a life as your mom. And Mom, thank you for giving me a life.

Mom begins life and life begins mom. A very special palindrome.

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh

Happy Mother’s Day.