This Mother’s Day, my arms and my heart are fuller than they’ve ever been. I am a few months shy of one year postpartum and find myself reflecting on what it means to be a mother – not just to one little one, but two. My inquisitive and mirthful 4-year- old, Ruby, and hazel-eyed 9-month-old cherub, Jonah, capture my heart daily and have, in many ways, rewritten my dreams in the stars.

It’s my sweet Jonah, however, who at the time of writing, has me waiting with bated breath for that singular moment that he utters that two-syllable word that will, just like on the day he was born, open the floodgates of my heart. You already know what it is: Mama. 

To date, he’s muttered various forms of “Mmmms” or “Mums.” In one instance it sounded a whole lot like “Mom” but I won’t play the fool. It was my ears playing tricks on me. 

I’m not exactly proud that I’m sitting in this silly suspense. It’s giving “thirsty,” as the kids say. What I am proud of is the fact that motherhood is just one of many identities I carry and I know I’m not alone in feeling that way. I, for one, am a woman. I am a neighbor and a friend. I am a spiritual person, I am passionate about the well-being of all of our children, and I care deeply about being a good steward of our planet. I held these identities and passions before I became a parent and am emphatic about retaining them alongside motherhood. 

But the title of mother still holds a unique and special place which is why I find myself shamelessly coaxing Jonah to say Mama however and whenever I can. Laying on the floor before bedtime, nearly nose-to-nose with Jonah’s ebullient face, incessantly repeating “Mama” as his eyes trace the movement of my lips. Or humming the sound “Mmmmm-mom" over and over as I buckle his seatbelt. And yes, I’ve even bribed him at lunch with spoonfuls of applesauce to no avail.

Instead, my desperate appeals are only met with a wide, toothless grin and that deep and infectious giggle that only babies can make. Naturally, Jonah's tickled reaction compels me to do it again, and again, and again.

I’m doing all of this because words do matter, but only because of how it makes us feel and the purpose it gives to each of our lives. Shakespeare famously wrote, “What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” While we celebrate mamas everywhere today, it’s not just me who patiently waits to hear those magical two syllables. There are O’mas, Nonas, Babas, Dadas, and Nannas too. These are not just words. They come with the sweet, innocent voice of your darling child calling you by said name. Merely hearing it initiates that shot of oxytocin that conjures up a sense of warmth, tenderness, and devotion somewhere deep inside of you. The name is a validation that together you are engaged in a distinctive and reciprocal love. 

My sincerest hope is that these titles are energizing and affirming for you. Not just to be the best caregiver that you can be, but to be the deepest and most complete version of who you are meant to be. Your courage to do so is important, yes, for your petit bébé – but for all of us too.

To all who find themselves lucky enough to be a parent or caregiver, I honor you today.

To the expectant moms,

To the mums cheering at graduations,

To the beloved mothers being called home to glory, holding on just long enough to hear Mama for the final time...

And to all of you on the journey somewhere in between: you are incredible, you are enough, and you are so very much appreciated.

Happy Mother's Day!

Chidi Jenkins is the Senior Officer for Leadership and Public Policy at Ascend at the Aspen Institute. She dedicates this piece to her mother, Paula Uche, Sandra Brunson, her bonus mom, and Gloria Jenkins, her mother-in-law.