Mary is the best motherly role model you can have

We get a string of “dadadadadada,” followed by other babbling sounds as the boys try out language and get a sense for how sounds work. 
    

So, how will we know which of us gets the coveted “first word”? 
    

We’ve made a deal: It’s when the word is spoken on its own – not in a string of similar sounding syllables – and, perhaps, in connection with the individual. Another sign of confirmation: If they are looking or pointing or emphatically acknowledging the meaning behind the word.
    

Maybe we’re being too idealistic. Maybe, after all, the first word will be “no.”
    

This Mother’s Day, I’m in awe of how much has changed in the span of one year. A year ago, I had my baby shower on Mother’s Day. It was a celebration of life and newness – a newness that wouldn’t actually hit until the first days in the hospital trying to suddenly understand my new role as mother, as caregiver for the two tiny beings that depended on me.
    

Now, it’s astounding to think that we’ve already reached a year since that Beatrix Potter-themed shower. A year since we’ve moved from St. Louis. A year since we’ve grown our family. A year in my role as mother. 
    

As Catholics, we’re taught to look to Mary as our role model for mothering. Mary, the ever-present, ever-caring, faith-filled woman. 
    

In those terms, it seems idealistic: How can we in our sinful nature ever become like her? But if we look closer at the personhood of Mary, we see something altogether different. 
    

We’re often confronted with the youth of Mary – a young girl who was betrothed, accepted God’s will, married and gave birth to the savior. Imagine the pains of childbirth at such a young age. Imagine giving birth in a manger. 
    

Mary was no stranger to suffering, despair or heartache. We have no further to look than to her witness: her acceptance in letting go as Jesus prepared his ministry, her suffering in her knowledge of his own human destruction and her heartache over the death of her only son. 
    

The day after my twins were born, my doctor came to visit in the night during his rotation, after visitors had left. After checking in, he asked what we would find in the glove compartment after buying a car. 
    

In my overwhelmed state, I was puzzled. I had no idea why he was talking about cars. 
    

I thought it was a test. What should we have in our cars after bringing the babies out of the hospital? 
    

Instead, it was a simple answer: the car manual. But babies don’t come with manuals. So, he gave us each a manual to parenthood: two complementary prayer book devotionals to Mary and Joseph. In the most difficult of days, that manual has been a source of comfort.
    

In Mary, we receive not an ideal, but an image of a woman who has embraced her role of mother. It is a role that involves love and protection, but also – as much as it hurts – a letting go when the time is necessary. 
    

Wouldn’t it be the best surprise if, after all, the first word that escapes those little mouths is “Mama”?     
    

Heather Bozant Witcher can be reached at [email protected].