An unprecedented mom-ent

As we head into a distanced Mother's Day, The 19th's staff is reflecting on lessons that our moms taught us that have served us during the pandemic. Moms always know best, after all.

Portraits of families separated by glass or multiple building stories became a familiar sight as the coronavirus ravaged the United States, and every one of them broke my heart anew. Because as we all adjusted to this strange new reality, I was thrown back into a very familiar one.

My first memory is of my mother, but in it, she’s not directly in front of me. She’s waving from behind one of the hundreds of glass windows at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, and I’m on my grandfather’s hip on top of a towering parking garage nearby. I was 4, and that was the first time I had seen her for weeks.

My mom, who had breast cancer, needed extended chemotherapy treatments, and I became inconsolable each time she had to go back to the hospital, where I couldn’t visit. She always told me the same thing: “I have to do this now so I can be better for you later.”

When Mom was diagnosed, she was given less than a year to live. Thanks in part to those brutal, exhausting treatments, she evaded death for seven years. As I think of the sacrifices that we are forced to make during this pandemic, I frequently come back to my mother’s. Mom made tough choices so she could be there for me as long as she could.

Coronavirus has forced many of us to make decisions that have left so many separated from the women who shaped them. But, as my mom might say, we have to do this now so we can all have better days later. —Abby Johnston, deputy editor

I've been thinking a lot about my mom's approach to life as I’m huddled in isolation with my husband and two kids. My mom worked, had three kids and a husband who covered campaigns and was never home. Yet she always seemed to strive for equal contribution across her life: worked out every morning, went to work, gave us her full attention at home, cooked dinner, played cards with us, made us hot fudge sundaes.

When I had kids, I cried to her one day, asking how she attained that balance. She told me it doesn't happen in a day or even a week or a month, but over years. There are times you will give more to the areas that need you, and other times to the areas that feed you. She said that if I was seeking balance, I should have faith that I could find it, given enough time. And that's when I realized that what my mother exhibited all those years wasn't just balance, it was grace. — Johanna Derlega, chief revenue officer

I'm lucky that my mother has been a lifelong teacher. She instilled in me a love of reading, especially of Latin writers. She invited me to help her cook and bake, two skills that have been awfully handy during shelter-in-place. She modeled fine fashion taste, taking care to look her best even on days she might not have felt her best.

Most importantly to The 19th's mission, she taught me to be politically informed. An early memory I have is watching the presidential debate in 1992 with her. I didn't understand much, but she made it clear something important was happening; I think of that whenever I watch debates now. I’m thankful we've never shied away from political discussions, even when — especially when — we respectfully disagree. — Andrea Valdez, editor in chief

I learned so many things from my mother, things she taught me and things I learned by observation. She was and continues to be such an example for me as a black woman, and I could not be prouder to be her daughter. In recent weeks, I’ve been reminded of a few of those early lessons, which have served me well in this pandemic.

The first is that birthdays matter. My mom used to always say, “You should celebrate your birthday … it beats the alternative!” That it does.

Mom was a flight attendant for more than three decades, flying across the country and, later, around the globe. For years, she rarely ate her own food or slept in her own bed — or even her own time zone! For that reason, she would often say, “Eat when you’re hungry; sleep when you’re tired.” I’m not ashamed to say I listen to that advice now.

Lastly, I remember that my mom called and checked on my grandmother pretty frequently until she passed away. I’m sure my grandmother called too, but my mom did a fair amount of the initiating. I find myself doing that these days, and it’s a habit I intend to keep after the pandemic is over. So if you can, while you can, call your mother. — Errin Haines, editor at large

The night before the interview for my first journalism job, my mom called and asked me what kind of salary I intended to ask for. When I told her, she said to ask for thousands of dollars more. I balked; the economy stunk and I was desperate for this job. I didn't want to look greedy or presumptuous, and choose someone else instead. But she said to me something I've never forgotten: "Emily, the worst thing they can say is no." It's advice that has followed me through my journalism career in countless ways: Asking difficult sources if they'll talk to me, requesting sensitive documents, asking for a promotion, asking for a raise.

It's followed me to The 19th, where I'm working around the clock to ask people to support The 19th in an incredibly difficult time — a time when they're already stretched, or navigating tough circumstances in their own families.

And it's followed me in my personal life, where I've learned to ask for help when and where I need it. I'm having to ask for help to navigate this pandemic personally — hand-holding from my husband, patience from my daughter, flexibility from my colleagues as I juggle home and work.

I'm also doing my best to pay it forward: Virtually every young woman who's ever worked for or been mentored by me has now heard the refrain. —Emily Ramshaw, co-founder and chief executive officer

I have spent the coronavirus pandemic quarantined in my apartment in Washington, D.C. I love my home, but it's a small, two-bedroom apartment with no outdoor space and I live here alone.

There have been days when the boredom of being stuck inside with nowhere to go and nothing to do seems never ending. I've taken on projects and hobbies — my succulents are repotted and my fridge is organized — but I also dream about what I want to do when we can re-enter the world. And that is where my mother, Linda, comes in.

Mom, I've decided I'm going to learn how to play the cello. At 40. And it's because of you. A part of me has wondered whether I'm "too old" to learn things best undertaken when very young: a new language, a new instrument. But I watched you take up yoga in your 50s, become a certified teacher at 55, then open your own studio — and you've thrived! I was impressed and yes, a little envious, when you became a naturalist certified to work in the Ohio parks system in your late 60s. So thanks, mom, for modeling that it is always a good time to pursue a dream. Happy Mother's Day! Next year, I'll play the cello for you. — Amanda Becker, Washington correspondent

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