How to describe maternal love?

When I was a child, I threw stones in the community and accidentally smashed my fellow friends' heads. I'm very scared. Then my mother went downstairs to hold me and protect me. I held her and buried my head in my waist, but my little heart thumped but the thief was at ease. The one who went to the park and wanted to play the amusement park and ran in circles by train, at first she wouldn't let me see it, but later she promised to let me see it. After reading it, she suddenly picked me up. It turned out that she was waiting for an opportunity to let me sit in the first position of the locomotive. I habitually pinch her ears, and she is usually not tired of wearing earrings. Almost every time she sleeps, she falls asleep like this (I was also the one who pinched in the wedding photos and family photos, and the photographer made other poss very happy and happy). And those moments when I was educated, she taught me to sympathize with street vendors (I hated the confiscation of things by urban management at that time), taught me how to spend money to buy things, and taught me to do math and manual classes with great care (my mother was studious and competitive, and she was depressed when she suffered a little loss when she was studying, and began to support me wholeheartedly after she got married and had children).

When I was a child, I had a balcony full of toys, and later I wanted to go to someone else's house to play (after my mother left, my neighbors began to dislike me gradually, so I pretended not to be there or drove away when I knocked at the door). When I am bored, I will throw stones at the river, and then I will start to sabotage and be naughty (sorry for other people's gardens). What impressed me most was the feeling of being with her. That kind of familiar and unfamiliar feeling will be considered as the best place in the world. I can remember a lot of things before, some of them are immersive, some are vague, and by the way, there are dishes cooked by my mother. I tried to tell her how many bowls of rice I ate per meal (six bowls at most). I stayed with my parents and friends for a while. Once they took their children out to take pictures, and I followed them, and I cried inexplicably in the middle, and then I was seen. I also saw the anxiety and fear in their eyes. Maybe this is the difference with love. I can't describe what maternal love is, it's very vague. I used to be very superstitious and believed in heaven and hell. My mother is still looking at herself in some world, and this feeling completely disappeared in high school. ...

My stepmother's words ... no love. I fell down in the room and made a noise. She'll only be afraid that I'm killing myself. Take a look, but I don't know this.