This week has been truly trying. It has taken me past what I thought I was not only emotionally able to handle, but physically. It is amazing what four days can bring into your life. It can bring gifts, sadness and surprise. In these kinds of days we learn what we are so called ‘made of’. I begin to ponder, are we really only given what we can handle? Does what not kill us make us stronger? I think these are said to give comfort; I am not sure how much truth is really behind the shared ‘wisdom’.
I have slowly watched our son grow more and more independent. It seems that even at one year of age little-by-little he needs my help less and less. Of course he still needs me, but he is learning to do many things on his own. He gets frustrated with a task and I lend a helping hand; look out for the upset! We go through this each day.
At the end of every day he reverts to a need of comfort and nurturing. He requires holding, cuddling and extra love. He can’t read, so he listens to my voice. We just sit and soak up the moment. I immerse myself in these times of need and to be honest I find it irresistible that he doesn’t only need me, but wants me! When will this end? When will he find his days challenged and take it on alone? When will he be too old for his Mom?
In the times of illness I have to remember he can’t tell me what hurts. He can’t say he is hungry or tired. He screams and we begin the guessing game of what he needs. The screams become more intense. And it is during these moments I have to remember he needs me. He absolutely cannot comfort himself or communicate any other way. He doesn’t want to have this reaction, but has no other tools. And I have to dig deep to find the right Mom tools to continue to be who he needs. When will he no longer have this need? Will he learn to comfort himself?
I go on day in and day out. We find our way to the moon lit sky and rest our weary minds and body gearing up for the next day. We reach a day when the day doesn’t seem to have an end. And I don’t feel I have much left to offer to properly meet what is required of him. I call Mom and she (as always) gives me reassurance that what I am feeling is normal. Again, she reiterates that we can’t always do it on our own. I hear her unsaid words. She is saying that we need other people. We need people to pull together to get us through the times we can’t do it ourselves. The next thing I know is she is here.
I consider myself an independent person. I am a strong being. And during these days I find my message. It isn’t that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. The message I hear is that you are never too old. I am never too old to find the comfort of my Mom’s voice and words. I am never too old to accept my Mom’s help. I am never too old to need Mom. And I know that I want Mom during my difficult times, for she has the much needed tools to help make it better.
Since I am never to old, I will continue to think my child(ren) will not become too old. Moms bring something to their children that others cannot. They bring a sense of magical comfort not given by anyone else. Who said, “You cannot go home again” is clearly mistaken. I get to go home, to her arms, any time I need or want. It is a human need to find comfort in others. We are never too old to find this much needed comfort in our Mom’s.
I have slowly watched our son grow more and more independent. It seems that even at one year of age little-by-little he needs my help less and less. Of course he still needs me, but he is learning to do many things on his own. He gets frustrated with a task and I lend a helping hand; look out for the upset! We go through this each day.
At the end of every day he reverts to a need of comfort and nurturing. He requires holding, cuddling and extra love. He can’t read, so he listens to my voice. We just sit and soak up the moment. I immerse myself in these times of need and to be honest I find it irresistible that he doesn’t only need me, but wants me! When will this end? When will he find his days challenged and take it on alone? When will he be too old for his Mom?
In the times of illness I have to remember he can’t tell me what hurts. He can’t say he is hungry or tired. He screams and we begin the guessing game of what he needs. The screams become more intense. And it is during these moments I have to remember he needs me. He absolutely cannot comfort himself or communicate any other way. He doesn’t want to have this reaction, but has no other tools. And I have to dig deep to find the right Mom tools to continue to be who he needs. When will he no longer have this need? Will he learn to comfort himself?
I go on day in and day out. We find our way to the moon lit sky and rest our weary minds and body gearing up for the next day. We reach a day when the day doesn’t seem to have an end. And I don’t feel I have much left to offer to properly meet what is required of him. I call Mom and she (as always) gives me reassurance that what I am feeling is normal. Again, she reiterates that we can’t always do it on our own. I hear her unsaid words. She is saying that we need other people. We need people to pull together to get us through the times we can’t do it ourselves. The next thing I know is she is here.
I consider myself an independent person. I am a strong being. And during these days I find my message. It isn’t that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. The message I hear is that you are never too old. I am never too old to find the comfort of my Mom’s voice and words. I am never too old to accept my Mom’s help. I am never too old to need Mom. And I know that I want Mom during my difficult times, for she has the much needed tools to help make it better.
Since I am never to old, I will continue to think my child(ren) will not become too old. Moms bring something to their children that others cannot. They bring a sense of magical comfort not given by anyone else. Who said, “You cannot go home again” is clearly mistaken. I get to go home, to her arms, any time I need or want. It is a human need to find comfort in others. We are never too old to find this much needed comfort in our Mom’s.
No comments:
Post a Comment