One of my favorite authors, Kelly Corrigan, wrote a book about living in the ‘middle place’—where being someone’s parent and someone’s daughter overlap. ⁣

With Mothers’ Day around the corner, her quote above is ringing so true to me. I can’t count the number of times in the last few years that I’ve desperately needed my mom, despite being one myself. She is the one that first set my life on its axis and now when circumstances threaten to knock me off it, I grasp for her to resettle my world. ⁣

If maturity was supposed to relieve my dependence on her, it has somehow done just the opposite. Instead of relying on her for the trivial stuff like food, shelter, and a ride to school, I now look to her to anchor me down, to tell me mothering won’t always be this hard, and to remind me that hard seasons always appear more daunting than they really turn out to be. She always delivers.⁣

Once upon a time I despised the fact that I had to listen to her and now I tune all other voices out to hear hers. ⁣

Becoming a mom myself has not diminished my desperate need for her, only revealed its true depth. I love being a mother—but I can’t fathom living without mine.