Being a Mother

What does it take to be a mother? Is it carrying and giving birth to a child? Or is it nurturing, caring for, protecting a child? What about an adoptive mother, a surrogate mother?

When I wrote The Protector, I had to examine what makes a mother. Now I’m a mother and a grandmother, so I have a pretty good idea of what all is involved. But that's where any similarity with my main character Rissa ends. I had a loving husband who was excited by the impending birth of both our children. The father of Rissa's baby couldn't get away fast enough. She was left alone, unmarried, pregnant, working in a bar to scrape by. Then a mother's worst nightmare occurred. She lost her baby to traffickers. She spent years searching for her child, to no avail. Worse, she blames herself for not being there when the traffickers came. She imagines she could have fought them off better than her elderly sitter. Her loss is compounded by guilt.

Normally, I’d say I can’t imagine what she must have gone through, except I had to. Imagine it, that is. After so many years of anxiety over her child’s welfare, I imagined Rissa closing off that part of herself. She couldn’t be around babies because it brought back such painful memories. Yet, every holiday, every birthday she couldn’t help imagining what her child was doing and how she was faring.

But what if she’s given a chance to redeem herself, to make up for (in a small measure) for losing her child? When she discovers two teen girls who’ve escaped from a slave ship, she has to save them. When one of the girls chooses to stay with her, Rissa takes on another role. By protecting the girl, feeding and clothing her, teaching her, and sheltering her, Rissa has become a mother. But will she love the girl as much as she would have loved her own child?

Here’s a small excerpt from The Protector.

When she returned to the tavern with the clothes, Rissa found the girls wearing what she’d left them. Her shirt hung almost to Anaris’ ankles. On Pela, it reached her knees. They’d been sitting on her settee, Pela brushing Anaris’ hair. They jumped up when Rissa came in.

Both eyed her warily.

Pela broke the silence. “What are you going to do with us?”

Rissa sat on the end of her bed across from them. “I can find transport so you can return home.”

“No.” Pela’s sharp response surprised her. “I won’t go back.”

Anaris looked even more frightened. “Please don’t,” she whimpered.

With delicate probing, Rissa got their stories. Both girls had been sold by their fathers to the traffickers. Her heart twisted for them. How could a parent not appreciate the gift of life given to them? To sell their flesh and blood was unconscionable.

Rissa reined in her anger. “You have a choice where to go, what to do. Nobody will force you. Now try on these clothes, and when you’re ready come down to the kitchen.”

Pela stood in front of Rissa. “Why are you helping us? What’s in it for you?”

“Repentance.”

 The Protector is available at:

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B012IZ3664

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/563354

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-protector-48

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-protector-diane-burton/1122394370?ean=2940150882904

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/nz/book/the-protector/id1023521388?mt=11

Tomorrow (Tuesday), Robyn Bachar interviews me and asks who would play Rissa and Dillan if The Protector were made into a movie. Come over and see what else she asks. http://therobyn.blogspot.com/2015/08/author-tuesday-interview-with-diane.html

On Wednesday, I'll be here for Insecure Writers' Support Group and
on Jolana Malkston's Serious Whimsy blog for a different interview. http://jolanamalkston.com/serious-whimsy/

Mother's Day

I hope all the mothers among you had a great day yesterday. I did. I really did. Besides being with my son and his wife, they decided to have their baby baptized on Mother’s Day so Hubs and I could be there. So very thoughtful. Living 2,000 miles away means we’ll miss a lot of events in Baby Girl’s life. At least, we didn’t miss this one.

The hardest thing will be leaving. After two weeks of holding our newest granddaughter, I’m sure to go into withdrawal. When my other grandchildren were born, we were less than 300 miles away. A fairly easy drive. Now they’re twenty minutes away. Thank goodness for technology. Even though it won't be the same as being there, we'll Facetime or Skype and our daughter-in-law will send pictures. And, gee, Arizona in the winter? Hmmm.

Grandchildren bring so much happiness. They don’t have to do anything to bring a smile to my face…Hubs’, too. I've had to wrestle with him over who gets to hold the baby. LOL

Our daughters—both the one we raised and the one our son married—are great mothers. Our own daughter has been at it for almost eight years; our daughter-in-law, only 4 weeks. The love these women have for their children shines out of their eyes and fills me with such pride and joy.

On Mother’s Day, I think about our mothers who have passed on. Neither of our mothers had an easy time during the early years of their marriage. Hubs’ parents married during the Great Depression. Money was so tight they delayed having children for a long time. My mom and dad married during World War II. Separations and moving from base to base had to be tough. 

Mom encouraged me to do my best in school. She was a great speller so she always quizzed me on my word lists each week. She was so pleased when I became the first in both hers and Dad's families to graduate from college. As I grew older, she and I became more like friends. I loved the times we went out for lunch and wish we could still do that. Even though Alzheimer’s cut her life short too soon, she did get to meet my first grandchild. Mom died six weeks later, but from pictures I could see a glimpse of the mother she used to be as she held the baby.

Mothers, daughters, granddaughters. All part of the flow of life.