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Before I was conceived, my mom was thinking of me. Growing up, she always told her mom (my Memo) she desired to be a mother. That was her divine calling and she couldn’t wait to get married. When she finally met my Dad, she had me three years after marriage. 

After I was conceived, my mom was thinking of me. I was born prematurely by a couple of months, and truthfully, the Doctors didn’t think I’d make it. My parents faithfully visited me day after day, but it was a sight. After numerous blood transfusions, I was a miracle child. Thirty-one days later, I got to go home. 

Growing up, my mom was thinking of me. The first time my heart-broke, she took me out shopping to clear my mind. She listened to me cry and complain for hours on end and never complained herself. She told me God had someone special in store and to not lose hope. I believed her and Him.

When I got engaged, my mom was thinking of me. She told me to embrace the emotions and that she was happy for me. She helped me celebrate and reminded me to soak it in. I believe she’s the only reason I didn’t lose my mind while wedding planning. 

After I got married, my mom was thinking of me. Every “first’ holiday she’d send me a card and a gift. She constantly texted me to ask if I needed anything. She still texts me every morning to say “Good morning, sunshine,” as if I’m still living at home, waiting for her to pop her head into my room with those words. 

Today, I’m thinking of her. It’s about a week out from Mother’s Day, and I wonder how she does it. How she took care of me, my dad, and herself, for 27 years. How she still cares for me now.