My mother was beautiful, talented and charming – but not cozy. It was the 50s after all and there was not frequent warm fuzzies around my home. Don’t get me wrong — I was loved and cared for in all ways, but emotions were not on display in great abundance. Feelings were held tight to your chest and rarely expressed or discussed.

It has taken me years to learn how to appropriately share my feelings. But, not as a mother. In that realm I feel totally comfortable both sharing my thoughts and feelings and in letting my children do the same. It was a goal of mine that my children know each and every day how deeply loved they were. And how much gratitude I have for them in my life. The lessons each of my children has taught me are vast and complicated. I hope I have passed on a few choice ones to them as well.

Being a mother is a path of surrender. You find yourself at the helm of a ship often cast adrift in stormy seas and the next moment in the calmest waters imaginable. And that goes from newborn days to now, as the mother of three 30-somethings.

I never could quite grasp how so many parents feel that their work is done once their children are adults. My parents surely were of that ilk. Once we were out of the house, our problems were ours to manage and I was not apt to go to either of my parents for help or advice. We had fun times together for holiday gatherings, when we could manage to corral us all to be under that same roof from various spots all over the country and world. But still the communication was superficial, while sweet and kind.

I suppose that is why I chose a different path from the get-go. Having my children all born at home and adopting an attachment style of mothering has shaped our relationships to this day. It would seem that the two children of mine who are now parents have chosen a similar style of raising their babes. Perhaps they do feel the positive effects of having been nurtured in the way I found so vital to us. It was integral to how I saw my role as a mama.

And I also chose to surround myself with women who see mothering in the same light. We support each other and have grown together in our processes.

So, on Mother’s Day this year . . . I send heavenly love to my own mother who did the very best she could and whose memory I cherish. As well, I wish smooth sailing on this journey we share to those mothers I know and love who are navigating with their hearts.