Mami

Over a year writing this bittersweet piece of self-realizations through my mother.

The story goes like this: I was conceived, made my mother gain 60 lb. on her 99 lb. 5'1" frame, and then made her go into labor for 13 hours. I did all this as a 7 lb. and 8 oz. fetus. According to her, it’s all my fault. Not in a bad way, but in the “you owe me big time, honey” kind of way. I’m 23 now and there’s not one time I can’t recall where mom doesn’t brag about those 13 hours in labor and that extra 60 she put on after eating oatmeal cookies and olives and whatever else she could pummel into her mouth because she was “feeding two.” It’s all jokes now, but Cuban mothers don’t ever let you forget the sacrifice they made for you to be a part of this crazy world.

My mother is something else. She named me “Olivia” after the “good sister” in the 1939 film adaptation of Gone With the Wind, Olivia de Havilland. To be quite frank, I’ve never watched the movie. She just always told me about it. There’s a GWtW Museum in Georgia — so I’ve seen passing through the Peach State with my cousin on our way to Bonnaroo. That’s all I know though.

Until I moved out of my parents house, I never thought I’d ever escape her Cuban control, but I did it through the miracle of college. And even then, just 2 hours away, I wasn’t far enough to truly escape it—she called me every day to get on my case. But that was her style: Overbearing with a touch of Love. It had always been us, my mother and I. My stepdad came into the picture later, and don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely the awesome dad I needed, but my mother and I had already been on our own for most of my childhood. Sometimes I still feel like that won’t ever change.We have this freakish, unspeakable, natural and beautiful bond that I propels our relationship into spirals of madness sometimes, but it’s worth it. She drives me nuts, I drive her nuts, we laugh, we cry, we drink together (now), and although I think our group therapy sessions growing up should have continued into my now young adult years, we have a better understanding for each other.

I see myself doing things she has done, and continues to do, all the time. I am extremely critical of myself, I collect recipes I say I’ll reference back to but I never do (even though my mother is a FABULOUS cook); I am obsessed with details and being fabulous even if I’m not wearing the latest brands. I ask a million times if something tastes good or if what I’m writing sounds good. I get silent angry and find it hard to express myself at times when it’s most needed. I love to read, I love to eat, and most importantly, my family comes first. If it is one thing I’ve seen my mother do the best and the most selflessly is put her family first. When my real father got accepted to Johnson and Wales in Charleston after they had recently married, she stopped her studies to support him and live in a city far from the family she was surrounded by. When things got rough between them and it was time to call it quits once and for all, she packed up his things and got rid of the trash for us. She let me sleep with her a full year after the divorce, because she knew it was what I needed. I wasn’t the easiest to raise with my crazy hormones and attitude and behavioral struggles as a teen, but she did it. She took me to all my soccer practices, games and tournaments, to every sleepover, dance and birthday party. My mother worked 2 jobs to put me through private catholic school, and although I didn’t have the newest uniforms, she made sure I had absolutely everything I needed, including my braces.

My mother is a warrior.

That fire and strength is the same fire and strength I have to keep pushing and to pursue my dreams.

I wrote about my mother recently in an autobiography for my business class. The grade? 150/150. 100%. My “Career Coach” for the class opened her mp3 feedback for me with:

“Congratulations. You really deserved this 100%. I can tell you really put a lot of thought into the assignment. You answered everything that needed to be answered. To pinpoint some parts I enjoyed reading. Your family background: I can tell your mother is really important to you and the reason why you’re pushing so hard to succeed and that her love and sacrifice drives you. That’s great!…”

Mami, if it’s one thing I’ve learned from you is that the love of a mother is like no other. Your love for me proved stronger than any bond in this world. You worked so hard to do the best you could for me and there isn’t a day where I dream that maybe I can do the same for you. You were there for me when I was hurt, physically and emotionally. When I needed therapy, you took me and did what you could to support all of my needs. You’ve seen me at my highest and my lowest. You are so damn strong I question if you’re even close to being from out of this world.

Without your passion and tenacity, I’m not sure if I could be who I am today. Your love for reading and reading with me has propelled me into what I love and what I want to do for the rest of my life. You are amazing and I couldn’t be any more prouder of you.