Long, long time ago one afternoon, I was looking at my first baby sleeping in her crib.

She was so little and looked helpless in her crib-cage. She looked alone. But I, her mother, was standing outside and just watching her.

Ordinarily I would have seen peacefulness or bliss in a sleeping baby. But on that very afternoon, all I saw was the fundamental loneliness of being human: We never could fully understand or feel others; Each of us was in a bubble, simply holding onto assumptions that we could and did know and connect with others.

It was profound.

When I was inside my mother’s womb, I was truly one with her. Ever since I was born, I was yearning for that connection and the sense of protection. But I was on my own journey and often tried to pull myself away from her just because. I never paid attention to her words, let alone her feelings.

When my baby was inside my womb, we were truly one. After her birth, she started her own journey even though I tried to keep her under my protection. I wished badly to understand her thoughts and feelings that were not always revealed to me.

On that afternoon, long time ago, I could not articulate my feelings as a new mother.

Thirty years have passed since then, and five more children have gone through my life. Hopefully I have a little more nuanced appreciation for our relationships.

My mother died 21 years ago on December 13th. I lost my ultimate protection on that day. I continue to try to be the protector to my children, while recognizing that each journey is unique and that I am ultimately powerless over their decisions, actions or fates. Regardless, my love for them remains the same and so did my mother’s love for me.

May I grow to be more accepting and compassionate as my understanding of life deepens.

Here is a song about mothers’ sorrows (poem by Masao Tachiya). The Japanese associate spider lily with death, pain and suffering.