I started dating my now-husband Trevor over six years ago. I didn’t know it at the time, but his mom would prove to be an instrumental part of my life from the moment I met her.
I wasn’t sure what to expect going into the “first parent meeting.” I had a complicated relationship with my own mom, and my prior significant others’ moms were often overbearing and controlling.
Mel was different. I was introduced to Trevor’s parents on a sailboat cruising around Santa Cruz. She and I had an instant connection. We spent the majority of the sail talking just the two of us, laughing loudly, drunk off the wine we were drinking and the easy conversation.
It was like coming home, when I didn’t even know I had been away.
She was vivacious, outgoing, caring, warm, and affectionate. We shared the same passions—communications and writing, a love of reading, and a thirst for knowledge. We had similar personality types; outgoing yet introspective, warm and loving yet resilient. She, like me, tended to be clumsy and forgetful (I like to think in an endearing way), constantly misplacing keys or losing track of time. We brought out these traits in one another and I was often told by my husband and others that I was “pulling a Mel.”
I was working at a dead-end nonprofit job at the time, wanting more but not knowing where to go from there, how to expand my career prospects. Mel was a high-level corporate communications exec and talked me through next steps; introduced me to her network. As a result, I landed a gig at a PR agency that set my career in motion, propelling me to new opportunities I would have never had before.
Fast forward three years later, I walked down the aisle to meet Trevor on the sandy beach of La Hacienda Resort in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Mel was there every step of the way.
Less than a year after we were married, I became pregnant. Mel went to doctor appointments with me when Trevor couldn’t make it. She helped me plan, imagine, and dream my very soon-to-be future of a life with my daughter. She told me I was beautiful even though I had gained 50 pounds (yuck!) during the nine-and-a-half months.
Labor was terrible. All seventy-six hours of it. Yep, you read that correctly. I was ten days late and despite an induction, Pitocin and every known instrument inserted in me to get labor get going, my daughter had no interest in being born. When labor did start, Trevor held one of my legs, Mel the other, urging me to bear down and PUSH, encouraging me when they could see her head emerging.
When my daughter Gabi finally made her appearance, we all cried. It was that magical moment you read about in all your mommy-to-be books.
I didn’t know what to expect becoming a mom. But, motherhood hit me like a ton of bricks. Yes, it was amazing and wonderful and fulfilling, but let’s get real—it is also so completely exhausting, mentally and physically and emotionally draining. Your body is foreign to you, previous thoughts of you “magically” and immediately shrinking back to your pre-baby shot. I was a walking zombie, in need of more than two hours of sleep at a time to fuel me, now fully understanding why sleep deprivation is used in interrogation tactics.
I struggled with my new identity as a mom. A lot of it stemmed from my own past experience, presenting itself in plaguing doubts of whether or not I could really do this and be good at it. Again, Mel was there. She stayed with us for two weeks straight when we came home from the hospital. She held me when I blubberingly sobbed about my fears and uncertainties regarding my new role.
When I went back to work, we created a system in which she would take care of Gabi for two days a week and a nanny the other three. So on Tuesday mornings, Mel makes the hour long trek to drive into San Francisco from Los Gatos. She stays with us Tuesday nights and leaves to head back home on Wednesday night. We see her and Trevor’s dad on a lot of weekends, too.
When thinking about this Mother’s Day and my evolution as a mom myself, I realized this seemingly small but very important fact: My mother-in-law is my best friend. I would not have made it as a mom, but also as a woman, wife, and a PR professional without her. I know that without a doubt. I’ve done a lot of introspection of this past year-and-a-half of Gabi’s life. This Mother’s Day, I give thanks to all the women out there who help shape other women’s lives for the better; whether a blood relationship or tied together by hearts.
Thanks, Mel, you are valued and very much loved.
Oriana Branon
