My mother didn’t have an easy time giving life to me. In fact, she nearly lost hers bringing me into the world. She spent her time, finances, and overall health making sure I was still breathing. I owe a lot to my mother, but there is one thing that I will always be indebted to her for—giving me the ability to feel.

I don’t like talking about my obstacles (I don’t even like referring to it as a disability, but I digress), but I know that it’s a reality I have to face. Growing up, I had a difficult time admitting how I was feeling, or knowing what to feel for that matter. Out of frustration I had tantrums, usually ending destructive. I threw things, and I hit people or I used words to hurt. I’m not proud of what I did, but at the time it was the only thing I knew that would grab people’s attention.

My mother didn’t have an easy time getting me the help that I needed, with the constant doctor’s appointments I had growing up. Being born two months premature (and a surviving twin for that matter) left me not in the best of shape. Fortunately I had a mother who cared about me and went through hell and back to make sure that I’m still here. Besides frequent visits to the hospital and familiarizing myself with specialists and surgeons, I also had my time in therapy. Of course I was reluctant, and I was destructive toward my therapists too, but it was necessary for me to be seen by them so early in my life in order to instill in me what and how to process my emotions. At home, I was corrected vigorously on my behavior. I have vivid memories of a star chart and visits to the corner until my time was up. Though at the time I thought it was her just being a mean and strict mother, I know that it was done so I could function as an adult.

For any mother, the thought of having a child with so many things wrong with them would have them doubt their child’s likelihood of making it in the real world, but mine never gave up. Through tears, both in sadness and in times of joy, my mother held my hand. Of course we had our share of heated arguments, both of us slamming doors or not talking to each other, but we always found a way to recognize where we went wrong and move on. As much as I don’t like to admit it, I knew that a majority of those fights were my fault and each time I regretted them terribly.  

My mother went through so much. It breaks my heart knowing that I caused her so many tears through my progression into adolescence. I wish I could go back in time and hug her, and tell her that I’m sorry. Every day when I wake up, I look forward in seeing her at the table every morning with her cup of coffee (a whole pot’s worth by the afternoon). I love when we do things that make us laugh, because I understand that if she didn’t do what she’s done for me up until now, I wouldn’t be smiling.

I know that there will come a day when she won’t be here for me, but I want her to know that I love her, and appreciate her in every single way.  I’m so thankful that I have her to truly love me unconditionally.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.

-Rasha Shaker

Rasha was born in raised in northeast Pennsylvania. Growing up in a single­ parent household, she realized how important it was to be strong and independent person. After graduating from Wilkes University in May 2015 with a BA in Communication Studies, she moved to Nashville with her mother and brother in pursuit of a new chapter in life. A natural storyteller since her childhood, Rasha aspires to pursue a career as a music publicist. Her website is expected to be launched by mid­-May of this year.