What are your first memories of your Mother? A warm and snugly shoulder to
sink your face into? The protector who held you close and rubbed your back?
The beautiful one who kissed your cheek softly as she vowed silently that she

would raise you to stellar heights; and make sure no one would harm her
baby, her child – whether you were the first born, the second born, or
somewhere down the line of the fragile and precious human beings she
brought into this world? As you raised your wee, little head you knew
her scent, and it was oh so wonderful being nestled in her bosom. But, if
anyone else ever held you when you only wanted ‘her’ you screamed to the
high heavens until she picked you up and consoled you. Gasping for air
against your own frightful cries thinking you had lost her; she quickly quiets
you down, your tender and teary eyes blink and you are proud to burp on her
shoulder as you cling to the life force that gave you life – your MotherYour next forage in the huge world that challenged you was crawling across
the floor, or carpet, scampering in sheer delight towards the image you saw
that always broadened your smile again, and again. It could have been your
father, your older sister, or brother, but quite spectacularly, most often, it was
your mother. You sensed that she didn’t mind too much if you drooled all
over the floor, or spit out baby food as she tried to feed you. She was clearly
exasperated, but you watched her face intently and saw her frowns turn to
smiles as she grabbed you up with wide open arms to wash you up, or take
you upstairs for your rubber ducky bath where you could splash and play in
the water. And ah, later you again fall asleep in the special comfort zone of the
loving arms of the one you spent months cocooning with before your
introduction into your present reality. She was special. Your first teacher, your
first love, your first First.
But alas, there came the time when she would say: “STOP!” Her big bright
smiles suddenly turned upside down into frowns. You heard: “Stop this and
stop that!” And then you heard: “NO!” Those scary words were echoing from
the same face, but a different tone of voice emerged that was not always so calm. So, you would blurt back to her: “NO!” Now that you’re trekking into your terrible two’s she was always saying more and more: “STOP!” or “NO!” For heaven’s sake, stop what? I’m just exploring this new world that you trought me into. That beautiful image before you has now become a little blurred. “STOP!” the voice commands, and now waving your little fists back at her in defense of your efforts, you retort: “STOP!” “NO!” Her voice commands and you learn to repeat: “NO!” You really don’t like all this new learning, but it’s coming from that same dear lady that held you so warmly on her shoulders, and who rocked you to sleep at night; so inevitably you learn to stop, and to listen, and to hear. Later on you recall how she stashed kitchen cabinet things high so you wouldn’t get to them. You remember her soothing