Love Evolution

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This post is a part of a special series Mom/Me: An exploration of motherhood and beyond. This collection of poetry, essays, and visual media showcase the many facets of motherhood and our relationship to it. In partnership with Mater Mea.

By Alecia Swoope

I was an 18-year-old freshman, visiting home from my out of town college ventures. I decided to reconnect with hometown friends for a night on the town; mackin’, hangin’, laughing, and doin’ what young adults do. Our night out, turned wee early morning, came to an end. I pulled up, parked my car, and walked into my parent’s house. Much to my surprise, it was pitch black, still, and silent. As a high school teen, I was used to coming home to one of my parents still up, waiting in expectation that I followed the house rules and abide by my curfew. But that night I walked into a sleeping house and realized the rules had changed or rather, evolved.

Looking back at that pivotal shift, I realized there is a transition that happens in parent-child relationships in which evolution is evident. Where parents let go of control while still clinging tightly to their most precious asset. As time continued, a power shift took place. To be honest, it was a roller coaster ride of power shifts—twists, turns, being shaken, thrust upside down, and many other thrilling and terrifying moments.

Figuring out how to be an adult child takes some navigating to settle into. However, as life progresses, so must we. As an adult, I have grown to understand the challenges, responsibilities, and sacrifices that are embedded in this thing called life.

As a child, with my limited understanding and underdeveloped brain, I viewed my mother’s love as something she had to do. I didn’t understand the intricacies of nurturing someone who is an extension of yourself, who you want to be better than yourself. Situations that I once rolled my eyes in rebellion have become virtues and core values. Times in which “no” seemed to be the end of my world, have become my boundaries of safety. Requests I felt were unreasonable, have become basic courtesies. The “go back and try again because that (or they) aren’t good enough” moments when I despised all things, have become the tenets on which I stand—my standards. Then there were the tender moments—the laughter, the kindness, the deep and never-ending generosity, the eyes that always saw through my BS to my best self.

It was only time that allowed me to have a deeper appreciation for my mother’s love. The thing about time is the more it passes, the quicker it goes. This leaves less time to appreciate the things you once deemed casual. As quickly as time seems to pass as an adult, it feels even shorter when you discover your mother is ill.

I will never forget the day I found out my mother had breast cancer. Just the day before, life was fresh, vibrant, exciting, full of joy, and potential. It was my 27th birthday and I had moved to a new city. A ringing phone changed everything. It was an interesting moment, as time simultaneously froze and flashed before me. While everything went still and quiet, my mind went through a rapid-fire series of considerations: what if my mom never saw me graduate college, experience true love, get married, have children, live my purpose out loud? What if she never saw me flourish into the woman she sacrificed for me to become? I was numb with the idea of potentially losing my mother. The mom that I was just learning to appreciate with new depth could be here today and gone tomorrow.

Illness and the nearness of death has a way of calling into existence the reality of the sacred. Time is sacred. Pure love is sacred. A mother’s love is sacred. That experience taught me how to appropriately prioritize what is cherished. While 10 years of perseverance have passed, my mother is still on this side of heaven, battling cancer. Through these years, I have had a new level of intentionality to treat the sacred as such. A mother’s love is fuel and fuel has to have a place where it is received. I have learned to receive it. To lean in, glean, and cherish. From more consistent conversations to the strong but silent moments of presence, I soak my mother in like a sponge.

On my journey, I realized that my mother’s love was one that could never be shaken—not even in the face of death. There are not many things in this world like it. I love my mom for loving me with a love of freedom, fullness, protection, and fierceness. Covered, firm, unwavering, and unyielding. A mother’s love was, is, and will always be. Transcendent, pervasive, permeable, eternal. Always protecting, always trusting, always hoping. Never failing. Ever-evolving from glory to glory.

Alecia Swoope is a writer and speaker who’s passionate about teaching and supporting people to be their best self. Stay connected with her on IG @msans7 and Facebook by name.