No matter who calls them 'Mom' on Mother's Day, these women share love year-round

Unconditional love. Being present and welcoming. Making everyday moments count. Doing hard things.

Motherly roles transcend definitions, but share one constant: loving actions.

On Mother's Day 2022, meet five Space Coast moms — Trish Barrett, the late Nancy Mullen, Dorothy Pratt, Robyn Feaganes and Shalayma Cruz — who illustrate the many faces that long-celebrated role can take, from mom to grandma to collective mothering of children and "fur babies."

'I'd do it all again'

You know how you sometimes hear someone say they always wanted to be a mother, and you wonder: Really? Always?

In the case of Trish Barrett of Cocoa, who practically personifies that ambition, the answer is a resounding: Yes. And I'd do it all again.

"I knew what I was going to name my kids ... truly, it's the calling that was placed on my life," she said. "My entire life, all I ever wanted to be was a mom."

A daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother and mother-in-law, she remembers with joy talking decades ago with her childhood sweetheart-now-husband about the life and family they dreamed of.

She and Kevin married 35 years ago, and soon, that family she craved was born: daughters Savannah Barrett, now 32, and Olivia Franz, 28.

Barrett treasures memories of Mother's Day with her girls, including the time, when they were 7 and 10, they asked what she wanted for Mother's Day. She wanted some time alone by the pool with her music, magazines and snacks.

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"And it wasn't very long until I looked back at the sliding glass door, and there were Kevin and the girls, with the door cracked open," Barrett said. "They asked, "Are you finished yet?"

Now, there's yet another gift: Olivia's son, Everett, 22 months old.

"It takes my breath away," Barrett said. "I love Savannah and Olivia and I thought that was the extent of how far my love could go ... and then God gave us baby Everett. And my heart just exploded.'

This family stays close through all the ups and downs, including Olivia's diagnosis with Stage 4 inflammatory breast cancer in 2020, a recent hospital stay for Everett — aka "Lovey" — and now, a cancer diagnosis for Barrett's brother.

"It's mind-blowing to watch your daughter parent her child, especially while battling cancer," she said. "And now she's helping take care of my brother."

Barrett's family lives near each other; they work and play and pray together.

And this Mother's Day?

"I will be honoring my mom. I will honor Olivia. We will spend time together quietly, as a family," Barrett said, her voice cracking.

"I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to be in our home and feel the love of our family all around us."

A mom wherever she was needed

She had two sons of her own and a busy life.

But retired educator Nancy Gilbertson Mullen, who died of cardiac arrest on Nov. 7, 2021, had countless more children by heart.

They, along with Mullen's husband of just more than 50 years, Rex, and sons Casey and Jess, mourn the "bonus mom" who once stood at the side of a Brevard causeway holding a sign that stated "God's love has no strings attached."

Mullen was always one of those moms who embraced anyone who needed her. When her sons were in high school, she was the "band mom." Later in retirement, she became the "PFLAG mom," one whose house and arms were open to young people and who put a sweet face on the PFLAG — Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays — acronym.

She worked to pass protections for LGBTQ students and staff in Brevard Public Schools; was part of creating the county's first "proper" Pridefest and parade and, with her husband, hosted Rainbow Youth parties.

"Nancy was a friend to her students, the students she mentored, and the young adults she supported who were afraid to come out to their parents about their sexual orientation," Rex Mullen said.

"She met with one kid down in Sebastian three or four times, and talked to him an hour or more each time."

Her sons say her ability to reach out seemed endless.

"She was an elementary school teacher, a director of a childcare center, and then a substitute teacher in the district my brother and I attended," said Jess Mullen, who teaches at Penn State.

"She continued to mother so many, mentoring local high school students and supporting LGBTQ youth."

Casey Mullen is now a music instructor in New Jersey. He, too, was moved by his mother's capacity for love.

"After her passing several of my childhood friends reached out to express their condolences and say how they felt like she was another mother to them growing up," he said

"Her empathy and kindness shone through, making her a beloved mother figure; an important source of kindness and understanding in the lives of people who were not always accepted by their biological parents."

Memories of a cherished wife, mother and friend who stood up for equality are sure to flow at a May 13 celebration of life.

"When visiting Florida, I would sometimes attend meetings with her," Casey Mullen said.

"I was moved to see how much everyone there loved her and knew her ... she fit right in among the group of teens and adults, a testament to how cool and accepting she was."

'It changes your life'

Dorothy Pratt is, in a word, energetic — and it reflects in every aspect of her life.

On Monday and Wednesday, she teaches a free class that's sort of line-dancing-meets-Zumba, Latin-style. On Tuesday and Thursday, she plays pickleball. She squeezes in hair styling, too, on Thursday.

"It's my way of sharing my blessings," she said of the classes she offers.

But then, Pratt — Dorothy Jacobs as a high-schooler in Palm Bay in the late '60s — has always been a bundle of drive.

Her ambition dates to her teens, when she was hired for the NASA typing pool. She rose to a 30-year career with Lockheed that included being the first Black secretary in her office.

Always, she knew that being a mom was in the cards.

She remembers wanting six children — three boys and three girls — and writing that in her high-school yearbook: "And if I couldn't have kids, I was going to adopt," she said, laughing.

Pratt and her husband, Marshall, had two children: Marshall Jr., who lives near the couple, and Rodney, who died on Dec. 17, 2017. She's also grandmother to two, Rodney's children.

She loved everything about being a mom to young children: camping. Movies. Vacations. Soccer. Baseball.

"It was a great joy, being there with them in the evenings," Pratt said. "Now it wasn't all joy, running here and there ... my husband would have to be here to pick up one and I'd be there picking up the other. But it was worth it. It was worth it. If I had it to do over again, I think I would have taken a little more time to live in the moment, instead of thinking things like, 'When are they going to get out of diapers?'

The death of Rodney changed "our whole life, our whole experience," Pratt said. "It's not the same. Losing a child: A piece of your heart is gone. But I still have a son. And I have to put my best foot forward for my family."

And staying active by teaching free classes keeps those feet moving.

"It keeps me from depression, No. 1," Pratt said. "It's good for you cognitively. And I love meeting with people; love the class members. It makes me feel good to know that it's helping them, too. It's a win-win."

Fur babies are children, too

Thirteen animals with special needs call Robyn Feaganes "Mom."

The Palm Bay woman and her husband, Robert Feaganes, run CH Lives Matter Rescue, where they care for animals with cerebellar hypoplasia, a developmental condition in which the part of the brain that controls fine motor skills, balance and coordination doesn't develop properly. Though it can be disabling, the condition is neither contagious nor life-threatening.

While the couple works to educate the public and adopt out the animals they take in, 11 cats and two dogs have become permanent residents.

"They've become like our children," Robyn Feaganes said.

While animals with mild cerebellar hypoplasia don't necessarily require extensive special care, the more severe cases may require accommodations such as diapers or assistance with eating, Feaganes said.

"We have our house baby-proofed because of them, because they're always falling into walls and you've got to watch out for corners and anything on shelves and stuff like that," she said. "It's like a toddler all the time."

One of the residents, a cat named Scarlett Scoot Scoot, doesn't walk and has degeneration in her jaw. She requires syringe feeding, diaper changes and baths. But the small black-and-white cat still finds ways to socialize, enjoying time with her family in the hammock, sitting in the grass or smacking at toys with her paws.

On TikTok, Scarlett has gained about 20,000 fans, with many people commenting that she helps brighten their day.

"They're like, 'I feel like she's my own little child,'" Feaganes said.

At bedtime, after all the work is done, the troop of animals is ready for cuddles with their human parents.

"They always want you to hold them and cuddle them and scratch them and at night when we go to bed, we have like seven cats and the two dogs," Feaganes said. "They always want to be around you."

Fighting for her life and family

Shalayma Cruz was working car duty at the Viera elementary school where she teaches English as a second language when the dizziness struck.

The mom of a 3-year-old, she knew something was terribly wrong.

She wouldn't have dreamed, she said, that she was having a stroke at 35, even though her father had died of one.

"I don't remember anything after I fell. When I woke up, I was in the ICU," Cruz said. "I didn't suffer from high cholesterol and I had lost weight ... I thought I was finally healthy. But it turns out I have a genetic mutation I'd inherited from my dad that made me susceptible to blood clots. And on top of that, I had a congenital heart defect called a patent foramen ovale, PFO, like a hole in my heart ... it was all so unreal."

That was Dec. 15, 2021.

Now, as Mother's Day rolls onto the calendar, Cruz is back at work and striving to finish her bachelor's degree in social communications at University of Central Florida. Her speech, facial expressions and movement are almost fully recovered following the large-vessel occlusion (LVO) in her brain.

It's been a tough few years, she said.

She's battled COVID. Faced a divorce. Wondered what would happen next, as she recuperated at her cousin's home and leaned on family for support with meals and more.

She's grateful to family. To the coworker who acted fast, and to the school for calling 9-1-1. And for being routed to Holmes Regional: Brevard County EMS train on strokes, and in the event of large-vessel occlusions, bypass the primary stroke centers in favor of the Thrombectomy Stroke Center and cutting-edge technology at Holmes.

Cruz's son Rodrigo — "Rigo" — inspired her recovery. He loves superheroes. She's optimist about their future and her goal of working in a communications role.

This Mother's Day, being with her boy and making plans for watching him play sports this summer — that's enough, she said.

"I'm just happy to be able to have a Mother's Day with my child," Cruz said. "To just spend every minute I have with him."

Contact Kennerly at bkennerly@floridatoday.com. Twitter: @bybrittkennerly; Facebook: /bybrittkennerly. Contact Walker at fwalker@floridatodaycom. Twitter: @_finchwalker

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This article originally appeared on Florida Today: Mother's Day: Five Brevard women who help define what 'mom' means