Personal Narrative Essay : A Day With A Mother

​Parents are one of the most beautiful things that could happen to anyone. They are always there by your side no matter what; they always want the best for their children. They can be strict and protective, its because they love their kids and they don’t want them to get hurt. My parents are special to me because with all the hard time that they had to have me and my siblings in their life they still fought for us and didn’t give up, even after 17 years of trying. But for me? The greatest of all is my mom. She is the one that I look up too. She is the greatest of all. Simple, funny, strict, protective, but yet she is the best.

Growing up my mother has always been the most supportive person I know and also very independent. I’ve always had respect for my mother, she has always been a role model for me and my siblings. My mother has always been very supportive of me and my siblings, for as long as I can remember. Growing up my mother always encouraged us to follow our dreams.

As an eight year old kid in the 80’s I remember watching the movie Popeye by Robin Williams. “I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.” I sang this tune in my head and out loud over and over again. I even added lyrics to suit me., “I’ll be want I want to be, I am what I yam.” It may be my first attempt at being true to myself, a self-identification, a personal statement and a compass of sorts

It seemed like a normal day when I entered Mrs. A’s AP Language and Composition class, but little did I know that she was going to assign a very important project that was going to take forever. I took my seat and wrote down what was on the board. Then I sat patiently and waited for Mrs. A to come explain what we were doing today. When the tardy bell rang, Mrs. A glided into the room and gave us all a stack of papers. She then proceeded to discuss our upcoming assignment, a memoir. As she explained the very important assignment, I wondered whom I would write about. No one really came to mind to write about and I thought for sure I would never be able to get this thing done on time. I finally decided that I would write in on my mother, Kari

I interviewed my mother. Although my first initiative was to interview someone one else, circumstances changed my original plan. Which in turn, allowed me to have a personable conversation with my mother. My mom is fifty four years old. She had her first child at sixteen and her last at twenty seven. Overall, she has six children in total. Having a baby during adolescences is difficult for anyone. Actually having to sit down and converse about my mother’s past experiences as a parent, was difficult for her. She chose to reminisce about her experiences with her second child. I am going to take you on a journey between a mother and her son.

I had this neighbor, she was a single mother of two daughters, one was 15 years old and the other was 8. Over the two years that I lived in my home we were friendly but she had a tendency to need things quite often; my husband to watch and walk her dog while she was on a cruise, her daughter to stay in my home to wait for her to arrive from work, printer paper, there was always a knock at my door from her and after a while my family and I started to not answer. One morning she walked up to me while I was waiting with my daughter for the bus and asked she crudely asked me, “Are you trying to be rude?” After feeling attacked, we went back and forth verbally attacking each other. I felt she had no reason to attack or confront me because I had never asked her

The fear has tied itself around my feet, and I know there's nothing I can do. Not tonight. Not ever, it seems. If I try to move, I'll trip over it. I expect the girl to scream at me. Something like, "But you promised me, Ed! You promised!" She says nothing, though. I think she understands how physically powerful her father is and how scrawny I am. All she does is stumble over to me and hug me

Before I even had a chance, I started off as a statistic. My mother at the very young age of just

I once believed teaching was the least gratified, but most important career until I remembered motherhood which is more arduous yet less appreciated than any other job. Mothers serve for at least eighteen years, everyday, sunup and far past sundown, without sick days, and arguably no pay. My mother, Manola Jean-Mary having eleven children has done the impossible for twenty-two years with seventeen more to go. There has been countless opportunities missed, many decisions questioned, even hospitalization because of the side effects of stress, however with no regrets she continues to do her absolute best for every one of us. A dissertation could be written about her strength, hardships, and how she has prevailed, but this essay only briefly explains my mother as my source of inspiration. I reached a point where I lost all motivation, any urge to accomplish anything. I was convinced that everything I did was unsatisfactory, that my role in this world, and my efforts were unimpactful,

“Hey, baby girl. I usually don't leave messages, but I know you don't have time to talk every time I call you. I wanted you to know that you mother and I have come to an agreement. We're going to separate for a while. I know that my space is limited on this message so call me when you get some free time today so I can fill you in on all the technicalities.”

As a high school math teacher, I am having rewarding experiences educating and motivating students, but it is not my true calling. I want to positively affect a wider scope of the public and do so in a way that can improve and potentially save lives. The medical field is the best option to fulfill this desire and becoming a physician's assistant has become my new passion. The aspects of the profession that most attract me are its rewarding nature and its fascinating and diverse content. Due to my experiences as an educator and professional football player, and to my intelligence and compassion, I am confident I would be an excellent physician's assistant. While shadowing a physician's assistant in an orthopedic practice, I met a patient, Diane, whose story solidified my commitment to becoming a PA. Seven months prior, Diane was on the verge of becoming a diabetic due to her obesity, but was unable to lose weight due to a poor diet and an arthritic knee that prevented her from exercising. The physician's assistant at Diane's family practice sent her to a dietician to improve her nutrition, and to an orthopedic center, where another physician's assistant gave her a series of Synvisc shots to relieve the pain in her knee. When I met Diane, she lost 42 pounds and, consequently, she would likely be approved for a knee replacement surgery that would allow her to continue her remarkable turnaround. The ability to work in diverse fields, such as a family

One of the most precious, exciting moment in a woman’s life is giving birth to a healthy baby. Throughout the pregnancy, women have different needs that include loving support, comfort, and facts about what is to be expected. This is essentially a labor doula’s job, to offer emotional maintenance and information to not just the mother, but to the family as well if needed. For many, being a doula is a second job taken up by women who have in interest the best outcomes for birth (Hartocollis). For this reason, the majority of them in the field have a passion for their work, but still one must research for the right match in personality and price. Often times the price can be negotiable as well, especially if it is the doula’s just getting into the position. They do not speak for the mother or give bias views to influence a decision, they are simply around to make a safe, pleasant birth (Perez). To push their views upon a woman is forbidden in the practice and they must make sure that she is as aware as possible. A doula should definitely be considered by an expecting mother, numerous studies have shown how doulas can be extremely beneficial to the family and the infant; they are the perfect additional hand.

“Mama, can we talk about this tomorrow? I cannot stand to think about it at this hour.”

To this day, I can still remember standing at the end of my driveway watching my mother arrive home from the bus stop. This day was different; she was not coming home empty handed. In fact, she had stopped at a yard sale on the way home and bought a prize for me, a doll named Suzy. This memory, from the age of two, embraces the story of my mother and my entire childhood. In Indianapolis, Indiana in September 1980, I was born to a single mother. Throughout her life, she worked for the phone company in downtown Indianapolis. Even though she raised us through hardships and despair, she always took the time to love my brother and me outwardly. Until second grade, I have no recollection of my father visiting more than three occasions. At last, in fourth grade we began to spend weekends at his house and with his family. Sadly, when I was eleven we learned that my father had cancer. One week before Christmas, after a school music program, I read his obituary in the paper and told my mother he had passed away. From that moment, our family forever changed, specifically my relationship with my mother.

I shuddered behind my mom’s leg clinging with all my might, like a dying leaf to a weak twig in the fall winds.