With her flesh and blood, I was created, a tiny heartbeat growing beneath her own, a fragile soul sheltered by her womb, my very first home. Before I ever saw the world, I felt her. Her warmth, her heartbeat, her voice. I was cradled in her darkness, safe, as she whispered promises to me, ones I would only remember with my heart.
Even before I could speak, she was my world. Even before I could cry, she heard me. Even before I could see, she saw me, not just with her eyes, but with her soul.
Her body was my first home. I grew as she swelled, and with every ounce she gained, she lost sleep, her mind swirling with hopes and fears. Would I be healthy? Would I be happy? Would I know that I am loved? Would she be enough to give me all I deserve?
When I came into the world, so did her sleepless nights, nights when her own body ached, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, yet she stayed awake to watch me breathe, to cradle me when I couldn’t sleep, to soothe me when I couldn’t say what hurt. Even when her soul felt empty, she poured from the last drop to fill me up.
In her arms, I learned the rhythm of love, a lullaby hummed through tears, a kiss on a fevered forehead, the soft press of her cheek against mine, her heartbeat the first music I ever knew.
She showed up, even when she couldn’t show up for herself. She fought to be the mother she wished she had, to give me more than what she ever received. And when she fell short, when her hands trembled from the weight of it all, she still held me tight, whispering, “I love you,” as if that could stitch together all the pieces she felt were falling apart.
In my little eyes, the world is as big as the hands that hold me. My world is her, my mother, a woman with eyes like warm cups of tea, soft yet fierce, a heart that beats like the lullabies she hums, and a presence that feels like the safest place I’ve ever known.
I watch her closely, how she balances everything like a tightrope walker, holding her breath so I can breathe freely, how she smiles even when her eyes are heavy, how she listens as if my little words carry the wisdom of the world.
In my little eyes, she is my hero, not because she has all the answers, but because she is willing to search for them with me. She sits beside me when the storm rages, when my world feels too loud or too lonely. She holds my hand without a word, teaching me that love sometimes whispers, sometimes roars, and sometimes, it just holds you tight and lets you cry.
Because to her, I am more than a child. I am the beating of her own heart, a part of her forever, the echo of her soul, and there is no love greater than the one that grew me inside her, my very first home. What a true miracle a Mom is!
Happy Mother’s Day!
With grace and gratitude,
Lux Hettiyadura
Directress, Child/Adolescent Development & Parenting Coach Education – Ignite Global
Thank you for this beautiful piece Lux! Heartfelt and inspiring! <3