A Mother's Day Story

Patricia McIntyre first became a mother when I was born on January 1, two weeks past my due date, essentially cheating my parents of a prior year tax deduction.  You think that at least they’d have a shot at those “first baby of the New Year” honors since I arrived at 12:10.  Nope, that’s 12:10 PM; way too late to the party.

My mom was only 18 when I came along.  She and my dad had gotten married the year before when she was a high school junior. In today’s world of equal gender opportunity and kids off on international backpack trips as high schoolers and college students, early marriage and family is rarely a choice made in high school anymore.  However, the culture of the small Southern town of my family back in the day, it’s what most of the girls did. My dad was a handsome firefighter 5 years her senior, and they were an adorable couple.  At her high school graduation, she was already expecting me, and they were on their way to  living the American dream.  

As I grew up, my friends always thought my mom looked so pretty and young, and that’s because she was!  My two brothers arrived three and eight years after me.  Except for a year in Oklahoma so that my dad could finish his bachelor’s degree  - we grew up in North Carolina.  My parents were great role models, both worked hard, and taught us to do the same.  We were Southern Baptists, and conservative values were front and center.   

In my mother’s footsteps, I was drawn to a nice conservative guy in college who wanted to settle down, and got married in the Baptist Church just a few days shy of my 21st birthday. Unfortunately it never occurred to me to first figure out who I was as a person and what I wanted out of life before becoming a wife.  I just went into marriage on autopilot that first time, and in just a couple of years, realized it had been a mistake.  I know my parents really didn’t understand why that marriage didn’t work for me - but I do remember so well that my mom was rock solid there for me, supporting me even though she couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t happy.  So many times in my life, I’m certain that my mom  didn’t understand my choices or my path, but I could always depend on her love and her belief in me - and lean on her unwavering support.  She’s that same unwavering support for everyone in my family.

My teenage years had their moments of frustration for both me and my mom.  In the big picture, nothing too severe or radical, but I tested some limits.  My parents were super strict with me as a girl, while my brothers had a lot fewer restrictions.  This infuriated me at the time, though later as the parent of a son and a daughter, I understood the greater potential for bad things happening to girls and made the same protective decisions with my daughter and son.  

My mom taught me how to sew, and she made most all my clothes growing up, and I made a lot of my daughter’s clothes when she was little too.  My mom and I used to love to spend hours in the fabric shop, buying pattern and fabric and then going home to sew.  It was a real bonding  time for us.  Every Southern girl must have a pretty Easter frock every year, and my mom made me some beauties!   She also sewed my prom dresses and all the other special occasion outfits.  

Vacations were spent camping, often with extended family, and often at the beaches on North and South Carolina.  Most of my whole family was in the same town, so we got to know our grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. My parents were very frugal, and my mom worked as the secretary at my high school - most of that money going for our college educations.  What a gift our parents gave us...my brothers and I didn’t have to get student loans to go to college, because it was a priority that my parents planned for for years.  We worked for our spending money, but our room/board/tuition was taken care of -all we had to do was study.  I remember when I went off to college as a freshman and was clearly focused more on playing than academics.  There was no mistaking that when my grades came and I received the full wrath of my parents‘ disappointment.  My options were to turn it around immediately, or come home and get a job.  I became a great student, shot up to Deans List and even continued for a Master’s Degree.  All because my parents gave me enough rope to hang myself then let me pick up the pieces and learn the life lessons.

My dad developed some serious health problems later in his life, and it was my mother who was his strength through heart attacks, diabetes and cancer.  She had a no nonsense manner of taking bad news, or a bad day - and redirecting my dad and everyone to a place of hope and solace.  She helped to bring my dad to a place of deeper faith.  My dad wasn’t one of those people who was naturally positive and full of sunshine all the time - but my mom has a beautiful way about her that makes you feel better just being around her.  The deep bond between my parents in the last couple of years before my dad passed away is something that I recognize as love in its purest form.

My mom is a huge inspiration to me, and a role model of unselfish love and compassion.  Mother’s Day is a great time to celebrate how special she is, and to let her know how much she is deeply loved by her family and friends.

Patricia McIntyre, you’re amazing, you’re beautiful -  and I’m so proud to be your daughter.