While I look at my child as he crawls and climbs and falls, it occurs to me that I was once a child like this.
I look back at my childhood dreams and teenage stupidities and wonder what sort of dreams and stupidities my baby will have as he ages.
I made life so hard for my parents. I hated them at some points, even. The worse thing my child does to me is try to run away as I change his diaper. He may have a day where he hates me. It may last longer than a day and it seems so hard to believe.
Motherhood is hard. Parenthood is hard. My husband just had to do compressions on a man who committed suicide. His own mother was the one that found him, and that scares me.
I guess all I can really do is teach my child to love and to value the fragility of life. As his mother, I want to protect him and keep him in a perfectly safe bubble, but this will make him value so little. He needs to experience the harshness of life to understand the beauty of it.
But I am afraid. I cannot help it. Forgive me.
I have so many dreams, not just the kind in which I am flying or people are dying around me and I’m just sitting there, eating bananas. I also have those dreams in which I am doing something great in the future, or something in the future, whether by your definition of great or by mine. I want to get married and have a lot children and be a cookie baker of a mother. I want to travel the world but have a home base where I can return to and know that I have security in a foundation. I want to be wise, and know people. I want to be able to look into somebody’s eyes and realize they have the weight of the world on their shoulders, and I want to be able to help them. I want people to need me for what I have to offer. I want to grow old. I want to have grandchildren and great-grandchildren all looking up to me and coming over to my house to be spoiled. I don’t want to be anything typical, I want to create a new example of typical, and when I die, people can say, “Yes, she was a daughter, she was a mother, she was a grandmother. But that is not all she was. She was the warmth of the flame, the lamp in the dark, and the smell of the sea.”