Motherhood often feels like a never-ending college course –
you are constantly learning, always working, and occasionally pulling
all-nighters. One major difference? The lack of grades. You may get a decent mark
on a pop quiz, such as handling an impromptu “where do babies come from?”
discussion in the van on the way home from karate, but the final grade, the big
question, “did I raise good, happy, successful people?” goes unanswered for many, many years. It can be hard
to stay the course, wondering if the choices you are making are doing any good
at all.
This past week though , I received some encouragement to keep fighting the good fight from a
woman I barely knew, and whose life was cut tragically short on January 31st.
Anne Heyman was a lawyer, philanthropist, humanitarian and mother of three. Among her many charitable works, Anne conceptualized and helped found the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village in Rwanda, a village that houses and educates hundreds of orphans from the Rwandan genocide of the 90s. This was my first encounter with Anne (her husband was CEO of the firm H worked for in 2007), and his wonderful, socially-minded company became the village's corporate partner. Family members were encouraged to get involved, and having a newborn and two toddlers at home, the best I could do was gather items needed for the children of the village. I wonder if Anne got a laugh, thinking about the woman who actually accepted the challenge of fundraising for, then buying and transporting to midtown Manhattan, two pallets of maxi-pads to be shipped to Africa. By the way, that was a SUPER fun Costco trip which did not result in any odd stares at all.
Of course, I was impressed by Anne and all she had done for the world at large, but it wasn't until after her passing, when H was sitting at the dinner table recounting the events of her funeral, that I was able learn what she had done for the smaller world of her family.
H described the funeral service, including all the emotional speeches given by friends and family, but it was the words of her children that stuck with him most. Anne's daughter talked about all the things her mother had done with her and her brothers - trips taken and museums visited. All the memories they had created. Anne's son joked about how she made them share a bedroom, despite having an extra one available in the house, to be sure they all stayed close growing up. H looked up at me, barely able to speak. "It was like our kids talking about you."
There they were, two of my biggest mothering aspirations - to give my kids happy, lasting memories of their childhood while showing them the world, and to create a close-knit, loving sibling unit to support them when H and I were gone. Anne had accomplished them both, and had done it beautifully. Hearing this story, was like hearing an urgent whisper from the universe telling me, "You're doing it right, keep going!"
I am writing this to thank Anne, even though I didn't know her, and to help her light shine a little farther into the world. It is women like her who inspire me to be a better person and a better mother and I hope some of you, in the trenches with me, also take heart from Anne's example. The good we do lives on after us, even if we can't see that good currently because we are arguing over why the XBox needs to be turned off right now and, yes, everyone has to come play Chutes and Ladders because it's Family Game Night and it's your brother's turn to pick.
Thank you, Anne, for giving me the encouragement I need to keep fighting for the family I want to create. Whenever I think I maybe all of this is too hard, I will think of you and your children and know what I'm doing is right.
Thank you for being my mothering guardian angel.
Of course, I was impressed by Anne and all she had done for the world at large, but it wasn't until after her passing, when H was sitting at the dinner table recounting the events of her funeral, that I was able learn what she had done for the smaller world of her family.
H described the funeral service, including all the emotional speeches given by friends and family, but it was the words of her children that stuck with him most. Anne's daughter talked about all the things her mother had done with her and her brothers - trips taken and museums visited. All the memories they had created. Anne's son joked about how she made them share a bedroom, despite having an extra one available in the house, to be sure they all stayed close growing up. H looked up at me, barely able to speak. "It was like our kids talking about you."
There they were, two of my biggest mothering aspirations - to give my kids happy, lasting memories of their childhood while showing them the world, and to create a close-knit, loving sibling unit to support them when H and I were gone. Anne had accomplished them both, and had done it beautifully. Hearing this story, was like hearing an urgent whisper from the universe telling me, "You're doing it right, keep going!"
I am writing this to thank Anne, even though I didn't know her, and to help her light shine a little farther into the world. It is women like her who inspire me to be a better person and a better mother and I hope some of you, in the trenches with me, also take heart from Anne's example. The good we do lives on after us, even if we can't see that good currently because we are arguing over why the XBox needs to be turned off right now and, yes, everyone has to come play Chutes and Ladders because it's Family Game Night and it's your brother's turn to pick.
Thank you, Anne, for giving me the encouragement I need to keep fighting for the family I want to create. Whenever I think I maybe all of this is too hard, I will think of you and your children and know what I'm doing is right.
Thank you for being my mothering guardian angel.
