Encarnacion is chief of staff for the superintendent/president at Southwestern Community College District and lives in Chula Vista.
My mom was only 19 when she gave birth to me. By the time she turned 22, she had three children under the age of 5. As a young mother, she struggled. Although she had moments when she would play imaginative games with us or share stories, I have more memories of her being angry and lashing out at me and my siblings both physically and mentally. When I was 8 years old, my mom left our family. The burden of taking care of kids, an unhealthy marriage and financial struggles proved too much for her to handle. As a result, I grew up believing that I didn’t need a mom in my life, even after my father married my stepmom when I was 16.
My stepmom is a godsend. We often joke that she walked into a family that was more like the “Lord of the Flies.” My siblings and I were a handful to say the least. Yet she loved us fiercely, firmly and consistently. At times, her love made me angry: How dare she love me like a mom when she wasn’t my real mom? But that never deterred her, and today I credit her with teaching me about the unconditional love of a mother.
The first time I called my stepmom “mom” was when I became a mom myself. I thought I had overcome my aversion to needing a mom. However, when my child turned 8 years old, I panicked. Up to that point, I could emulate some of the games my birth mom played and the nightly bedtime song she sang. But from when I was 8 to when I was 16 years old, I had no frame of reference for what “mothering” looked like. I worried whether I could be a good mom to my child — the kind of mom I would have wanted and most certainly needed during those formative years. It was my stepmom (mom) again who stepped in to consistently love and believe in me as a mom until I believed in myself.
I had my stepmom (mom), and I also gained a greater appreciation for all the moms in my life. I took comfort in my group of mom-friends who always worried if we were doing things right while being a full-fledged hype squad for each other. I drew strength from the mom groups at my church as we laughed at the absurdity of parenting and trusted that a higher power would fill in for any of our shortcomings. I commiserated with my mom-colleagues about the challenges of work-life balance and the guilt we so often felt due to long work hours or missing special parent days at school. I soaked in the wisdom of older moms in my life who always helped me reframe worries that I wasn’t enough with the confidence to believe I was more than enough.
Moms are truly superheroes who come in all forms! Even in our imperfections and shortcomings, a mother’s love is impenetrable. We worry hard, love harder and defend the hardest. This Mother’s Day, I celebrate all the women in my life who have made me the mom and woman I am today. Happy Mother’s Day!
