People tell me how strong I’ve been through this and that humbles me.
I think that somewhere embedded in my personality there is this undying need to try and show the world how strong I am physically and mentally. And honestly, for the most part there’s not a whole lot in this world that really bothers me or gets to me in a negative way. I don’t know if it’s something that has come as I have gotten older (I was always very dramatic, and still am about certain things), or if it’s from already being a mother and learning from my first son what really matters and what is really important in this world.
A requirement of parenthood is that you WILL get your clothes ruined because they will get spilled on; you WILL get peed on, pooped on, furniture WILL get dirty and ruined, and things you once treasured WILL end up broken. These things will happen over and over and they are by far the most insignificant parts of being a parent so you HAVE to let it all go and deal with it with laughter and grace.
I read a poster that said :
‘Motherhood is the only place where you can be in Heaven and Hell at the same time’.
How true is this! Having children and watching them grow is the most beautiful thing in the world. They have a soul and personality that is so pure. They are so innocent, but you can easily see their strength and intelligence in ways that seem miraculous for a being so small. They have this amazing built in feature that makes them resilient to the hurt and pain that enters into their world. And one of the most beautiful parts is all they truly want is your love; if they have it they can face anything head on. As a mother every decision you make is based around preserving all of this and their happy world.
Words can’t express what a mother’s heart feels like when their child gets hurt or is in pain that you either can’t take away or explain. I guess our built in feature as a mother is to try and take the pain and hurt away from our children; and it’s like our heart actually tries to attempt this feat despite its impossibility, and we feel it inside tenfold.
The day Jameson was born I cried. It had been a long few days and Jackson was completely worn out from the back and forth to and from the hospital. We had just been taken to our post-pardum room and Jackson started having a meltdown, he wouldn’t listen to either Frank or myself, so the best thing was for him to go home. He was in tears, and I called him over to give me a hug before he left and I just started crying. Frank came over and the three of us just held each other while Jackson and I cried. My tears were for how scared I was at this point.
They eventually left and I pulled myself together. It was just the two of us, and I held my babe. My tears had stopped, but I did however stay in a state of shock for the days to come. I didn’t know what was wrong with him and had never seen anything even similar to it before and was terrified of the unknown. My world was circling all around me, but the shock kind of put me in auto-pilot mode. I nursed him and changed him – he was a great sleeper, he would eat and sleep. But I barely slept. I would just lay awake with worry, and I would constantly watch to make sure he was breathing and alive. But as the days went on the all his tests came back normal I started to relax. Whatever it was, he was as healthy as he could be.
I have had my moments and have cried more than just that first day in the hospital. I’ve cried for the road that lies ahead and how many surgeries he might have. I’ve cried for the day when we’ll have to turn a screw inside of his head to even out the growth. I’ve cried wondering why this happened, this wasn’t our plan. I’ve cried for Jackson and what this means for him too. And I’ve cried for the mean, cruel world we live in, and the days when my sweet boy comes to me in tears because someone made fun of the way he looks.
But my cries never last long. There’s too much to be thankful for.
We haven’t faced any surgeries yet. Things never go according to plan. Jackson is a strong resilient boy – and Jameson will be too. The world hasn’t been cruel and mean to my baby, in fact everyone has welcomed him with love and open arms.
So with all of this the tears stop. Not because I am being strong though, but because it doesn’t seem fair to Jameson to cry. He is not in pain, and he doesn’t care what he looks like. There will be days ahead when he will be in pain and when he will ask questions about why he looks different than everyone else. Those will be the hard days. Those will be the days that will take every ounce of strength I have because I won’t be able to take away the pain, I can only comfort him. I won’t be able to explain why this happened to him, I’ll only be able to tell him how it happened.
I definitely like to believe I am a strong person and really am touched when someone tells me this. But when I think about all of this I feel like I am just being a mother more than anything else; and that any mother would be the same. We just have a natural instinct and will love and protect our children no matter what.