dear sweet boy
December 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
I wish there were a way to gather you close and reassure you that this too shall pass. Unkindness and ignorance draw you deeper into yourself, but the gifts that others cannot yet see will create a life bigger than this moment. You will know love because you give love; you will know success because you do not let others define your boundaries; you will find peace because you know how to look within to find it. Of course, none of this lessens your struggles.
Your peers are not yet mature enough to appreciate your strengths. Your interests are fascinating, but even your father and I struggle to comprehend your theories. Some seem so far-fetched, we sometimes lose sight of your ability to embrace the impossible with an imagination unhindered by the suffocating constraints of can’t. I hope you continue to reach for the stars; when others place roadblocks, build ladders.
Here’s another secret: teachers are people. They begin each school year with a group of new faces and planned course material. You challenge your teachers each day to step outside their own perceptions drawing them into that same place of impossible possibility. Much like peers that do not understand, teachers too are trying to learn as they go. Mistakes are inevitable, patience is mandatory.
You already know your father and I are imperfect. We get frustrated, sad, overwhelmed too. Each night we sit beside you going through the motions of homework mindful of your challenges but insistent that you can do anything. The very hurdles that sometimes make you fall also teach you how to fly.
Your sister is your greatest friend, don’t roll your eyes. In Second Grade two classmates were pushing you and mocking you on the playground. Before I could speak your sister ran ahead and blocked you with her smaller form. She guards you when others are unkind; walks beside you trying to keep up; sometimes she gestures you ahead navigating the road ahead from behind. If you reach out your hand, you will find your sister’s waiting.
Life is not easy. I cannot promise you kindness from strangers, I can only remind you that your worth is not measured by others. Happiness is not something you can be given or I would wipe away all your heartache. Instead, I can promise you a shoulder to cry on and a place to sort your thoughts while you find your way. If you look up, you will see those that love you are always within reach.
Love, Mom
to my husband
November 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
Lately I am reminded of our earliest days with our son. My heart recalls the impossible goodbyes in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, immediately lonely for our son’s company and worried about his well-being in our absence. Logically I understood the hospital was trained to care for our son’s needs, but my heart could not fathom leaving him each day. With all my doubts of late, an old question haunts me: Will he be okay?
I carry a special memory of you that I call on when uncertain or overwhelmed by a new challenge with our son. It was the first time we were allowed to hold our son. He was impossibly tiny and covered in a tangle of tubes, you were standing closest while I absorbed the sight of him. In a gesture filled with limitless love, you stepped aside and let me hold our son first. It would have been easy for you to gather him to you for a moment and then deposit him in my arms, but instead you let me hold him and I gathered him close like a salve to a tender ache. In that moment I was whole and at peace with the world, joyful. You stood patently nearby, proud and eager without complaint.
Your quiet strength and generosity allow me the unique experience of mothering from a place of authenticity. Thank you for giving me so much without asking. As I struggle to process my feelings and thoughts, be patient still. I know you are nearby, waiting without complaint.
individual inspiration
August 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
One person, inspiring a connection that forever changes the trajectory of a lifetime. I wonder, who would that be for each of us?
For some it could be a spiritual connection. Identifying with a belief that transpires time and fosters faith, unseen and universal. A sense of belonging to an ideology that draws strangers together in worship and action.
Perhaps others would make a romantic connection, identifying “The One.” A first love, old love, new love, unrequited love, or spouse. Finding a sense of belonging in another.
As a mother I cannot imagine my life without my children. There is an innocent, all-consuming love; their joy and pain felt as my own.
Friendship, platonic love that shelters us in moments of difficulty and celebrates us; guides us and balances us. The kind souls that we turn to without hesitation for understanding even when we cannot find words.
Then there is self-love. What if we never met ourselves; accepted our challenges and acknowledged our strengths? Would other relationships be the same if we never truly knew ourselves?
I am hesitant to place the burden of my destiny in another. I cannot imagine my story without the multitude of personalities that have led me to the present moment. I wonder, can anyone choose one person or identify one relationship that changes everything?
inheritance
July 24, 2011 § 2 Comments
When we get married we inherit new family with old stories. Woven beneath traditions are habits that can foster a feeling of connection as naturally as they can make one feel misplaced. Nostalgia gleans over difficult moments while basking in happier times. Sometimes we find a place of belonging and other times we struggle to wade through unmarked territory.
My husband and I met one another’s family in our Sunday best; everyone sparkled, poised and polished, on their best behavior. Over time health concerns, conflicting opinions, and irreversible mistakes have piled sloppily between us creating boundaries. Spaces marked with sadness or anger that we tiptoe over and around. I wonder, is it better to create a quiet space marked by limits to preserve feelings or do we remove walls and accept what we struggle to forgive?
I won’t strip away the simple dignity that accompanies privacy with details; this space where I set aside my thoughts feels deceptively intimate. Still, I cannot believe that something as universal as family would go unshared even among strangers. So I’ll pose these questions to no one in particular. How do we love openly with different values? How do we find our way when we close our eyes to ward off hurt? Is it more painful to forget or remember?
between the lines
July 5, 2011 § Leave a comment
I set the book aside, knowingly. Days passed and I would greet the title with each dawn, waiting for the right moment to begin. On a cloudless day, beneath a brilliant blue sky, I sat in the shade of my backyard and slowly welcomed old memories between the lines of another’s words. With a lump in my throat and a full heart, I read The Anti-Romantic Child: A Story of Unexpected Joy by Priscilla Gilman.
Our lives have different beginnings, but our stories are hauntingly familiar. We meet in a place of beauty; kindred spirits bound by grace born of love for our children. Two mothers searching for and finding joy in our children’s extraordinary gifts and challenges.
My son, my first-born, was my homecoming. The first time our eyes met my speech failed, but my heart opened in an awakening. Large brown eyes, sage and serene, mirrored my own. Long, thin fingers wrapped around mine and centered me in a place of peace. I fell into contentment.
There were no other children to contrast my son’s development and I was blissfully unaware of heartaches and struggles looming in the shadows of our future. We toiled away hours, days, months, and years oblivious to red flags that would later signal an otherness. Endearing traits would later become cause for concern.
One doctor, with little more than an unsettled feeling, refered us to a child psychiatrist that would see what we had not. Diagnoses and abstract initials hovered heavy, stealing the air from the room as we began to understand our son in a new language. With love and hope we have found our way amidst the endless unknown determined to embrace our son for the special soul that he is.
Between the lines of a stranger’s story I have found strength and inspiration; a celebration for the unique spirits that accompany us on our journey through motherhood.
Please note: This post is my effort to capture my initial feelings as I read this very special book. I consciously did not reference the author’s words but rather my emotional connection to the experience of reading them.
my father
June 18, 2011 § Leave a comment
Sentiments and memories, unintended, pull on my heartstrings. There are moments in a lifetime when the absence of a parent seems larger than memories and love can fill. My father is alive but absent from my life, acceptance and forgiveness for the path that divided us cannot dull the pieces of the little girl nestled in my heart that wish for my father’s love. Once upon a time he was my hero. Smart and funny, charismatic and handsome, he was the person I tirelessly tried to please. Good and bad, somewhere in the shades of love there are lessons and gifts.
Sometimes our parents model examples that help us choose a healthier path. Standing on the shoulders of their mistakes we look into the horizon and try to map a path that winds around old mistakes. It is a mixed blessing, but a gift. As other’s celebrate their fathers, I am taking a moment to remember a simpler time when it was easier to love mine and to recognize the unintentional lessons I gained as my father’s daughter that guide me as I chart my journey as a mother.
love and truths
May 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
My daughter is ever mindful of her big brother’s movement through the day. From the beginning, she has followed him in the shadows of his distractions, monitoring his activities and interests with love and admiration. The comfortable span of four years between them, there has been little cause for comparison, until now. More socially attune to the world around her, she has begun to lead her big brother creating a new experience between them.
It began with physical cues. Her brother lost in his own thoughts, she would redirect him with a touch on his shoulder or the small of his back, naturally guiding him into a moment. Initially she seemed to respond to this need with joy; happily stepping forward and finding a place by her brother’s side.
Recently, my daughter’s voice filled with sadness, she asked me why her brother was born different. She catalogued the spaces between them and I felt my world tilt off course with the weight of consciousness underlying her questions.
As their mother, my heart ached for the answers. I found my way through a difficult language of love as I acknowledged my daughter’s needs and my son’s truths. We are all imperfect and in the understanding we sometimes find ourselves called to place our own needs aside in an act of love. I realized late, my daughter had set aside needs and was placing them carefully in my hands. Together we are filling in the spaces between our differences and caring for one another’s needs with love and truths.
love
February 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
In a moment of nostalgia, I poured over my wedding photos. Not the leather-bound album our photographer gathered into glossy cliff notes of poise for posterity. Rather the binder of proofs, snap shots of a day through another’s lens. Candid moments, unposed.
Kindness, generosity, and love highlight my favorite images. My step-father calmly receiving my panic during the short waltz down the aisle. Women whose lives intertwine with mine in friendship offering strength and love in support of my promise. My mother proud and sentimental, celebrating a new milestone.
There is one photograph that I pause over. Alone on a winding staircase, overwhelmed by the organized chaos around us, I leaned into my husband. There is an unspoken plea in the language of my body. Feeling lost and vulnerable I gave all of my needs to my husband in a kiss. It is me asking for patience and seeking shelter. My husband’s image stands tall, accepting and giving in the same breath. I have known beautiful moments of romance, but love is a greater indulgence.
scribblechic 