Tuesday, February 7, 2012

I'm His Mother. I Can't Help Myself

     Today, my son informed me about a life changing decision he has made.  Although I don't agree with his choice, I respect it and will support him always.  That goes without saying.
     But, as we were speaking and as I was being very supportive with the appropriate number of "uh huh's" and "yes, I understands", I would interject a sprinkling of "but have you considered this...?" along with a touch of  "isn't it interesting that...?"

I'm his mother.  I can't help myself. 
The more he revealed about his plans, the more concerned I became.   Although, I told him that I had every confidence in his ability to deal with the challenges that he would surely be facing, I had to add  "By the way you have considered that there may be some difficult times ahead, haven't you?"

I'm his mother. I can't help myself. 
As we continued to talk, he made a comment that took the conversation in a whole new direction.  It was a difficult subject and not one that was comfortable for either of us to talk about. I could have dropped or changed the subject, but I wanted to know how he felt.  Judging by his behavior over the last year, I suspected that he might have been feeling the way he described.  But I was still saddened and upset by his response.
I'm his mother.  I can't help myself.
The conversation became strained after that.  I was having a hard time maintaing my composure.  So I mumbled something about a pot on the stove and we said a cool good-bye.
     I am hopeful that before he embarks on his latest adventure, we will have repaired and mended our fences.  I am not sure who will make the overture, but most likely it will be me.
 I am his mother.  I can't help myself.

    Today I feel as though I am losing another son.  My only other son.   
Lately, in anticipation of my son's likely decision,  I have been asking him more frequently than normal how he is doing.  His usual response is "No need for you to worry."
But I do worry.  I worry that he will get hurt.  I worry that he will not have the life he deserves.  I worry that he will not be as happy as he should be. 

I am his mother.  I can't help myself.
A few days before my son Joe passed away, as I tearfully held his hand, he said to me, "no need for you to worry, Ma, we still have time." 

Here is today's entry from Anna's Diary:
Thurs. February 7 1929
Home all morning.  Picked up Grace and baby Marion. Went to Rose's house.  Mary, Agnes C., Mary M., there.  Stayed until six.  Found Slim home for week end. 

[I think Slim may be Anna's brother who is away at school]


  1. Being a parent is the hardest job there could be.  I remember the day after we brought Sonny Boy home from the hospital.  We hadnt' secured the cradle yet so he was cozy and comfortable in a well lined, well cleaned laundry basket.  I remember going into our bedroom where he was sleeping with that little fist in his mouth.  I  was overwhelmed with the realization that I would be forever affected by him.  I would hurt every time he hurt and his sadness would be mine.  I wondered what I had done by bringing him into my life.  It's been true.

  2. Perhaps I am having a problem letting go.  It's time.  I will still hold my breath though, hoping that if he falls he can brush himself off and get right back into it again.