Growing up…with kids
I woke up crying this morning. My pillow was wet and the tears were still coming. I had had a dream of the last hug I will be giving my son, who swore in to join the US Army in just 14 days. I was 25 when I had him-my first child. I had experienced a hemorrhaging miscarriage at 20, and it had taken time to recover physically and emotionally from that. Psychologically, there was no return. My husband at the time was in no place-and remained so-to support my grief and healing and I was a too young to know what really had happened. So, I did my best and moved on as fast as I could to satisfy cultural and familial expectations.
I was excited to have a child, however. I had helped significantly in the raising of most of my 8 siblings and I loved them. I loved facilitating play, cooking with them, taking little hikes and bike rides. I was very domestic, for the most part. But, I did love them well and they remember it.
The situation was quite different having my own child, as you might guess. The intensity of love, devotion, and protectiveness was something I was unprepared for. In the moment, I just did it. I didn’t think about it. I was too tired and drained from being a newborn’s parent anyway. Then I had another, and another, and another. At age 32, I was finished. With each one, my life was at risk, due to hemorrhaging, but I was naive to think that somehow “this one would be different”. That was, until my doctor made things very clear to me.
Because I had helped to raise my siblings, in many ways (and my mother has admitted this) I did not have a childhood. I missed-according to my friend, a psychologist-two distinct formative stages of development. I was obedient, a pleaser, and a helper; a true Enneagram 2. I needed to be needed and appreciated. I loved to be loved. I sought approval at every opportunity. I still fight myself everyday in order NOT to step back into those traps. It is the war I live inside.
My only son and I grew up together in some ways. We explored the world of the outdoors, books, the senses, and our relationships…together. I felt loved like I never had before. I was needed like I had never experienced. I was appreciated and approved of. It was easy. The difference between that love and the love of the man I had married was a clear line. There was no comparison. I did not love my son the way I should have loved his dad. That’s not what I’m saying. I just felt deep love, deeper than I had ever known. The well was bottomless and the colors of that love were vibrant and boundless.
We moved into a country farmhouse and homeschooled all four of the kids. They were my joy, as well as my struggle. I managed the hobby farm, gardens, taught music lessons from home and performed when contracted. I was incredibly lonely for a partner, a companion. But that was not to be and I think my mind and body agreed. They both knew it would never happen inside that marriage.
My children filled in the gaps with regard to the grief and loss I felt. It was easy enough to let them fill my life; schooling, ballet, robotics, youth group, soccer, music lessons, children’s choir…the list was endless. And I loved it. I loved volunteering and the attention that received. I loved being of service in every which way I could. I just felt good and still does. And all the while, my son was the little man. He was always there. He wasn’t perfect, but he was conscious and alert. He was attuned to my moods and helped out when he knew I was stressed. In fact, they all did this and continue to. They are all incredible, loving humans.
One day when he was 16, I decided to do something for me. I registered for a training and would leave them for the very first time in my life. I would get on a train and be gone for a week. When that day came, I could not do it. An hour before the train came, he took me by the shoulders and said, “Mama, you need to do this. Go.” I had been crying for hours. I did not trust their father to take care of them, for good reason. But, I did learn to trust them to take care of themselves over the next few years as I went back to school, started my own business and had less time to spend with them.
And yesterday, he enlisted and signed on. This is a dream of his, but a nightmare of mine. I will adjust. I will be okay, someday. I do not, however, know what life looks like without him. He has been away from home at college, yes. He even did a stint far away for nine months. But, I could talk to him whenever I wanted. And I could go see him. This will be different. This will not only force him to grow up, but me as well. The pain will demand it. My former little man is now a young man, ready to blossom and I am more than thrilled. But I’d never be ready. I will learn to embrace this change just as I have had to in the past. But, my a big piece of my heart will still be walking around somewhere in the world without me…inside him.
God protect our sons and daughters, wherever their dreams take them. At least where we cannot be, we need you. May they feel your presence through the remembrance of our love, the whispers in the trees, the embrace of the sunlight, and the movement of the waters.
Elohai, b’rachamim hag’dolim, hasheiv o-tam b’shalom eilai.
