The Love of a Mom

What does it mean to be a mother?

It means transformation and confirmation,

vulnerability and sacrifice,

sleepless nights because they're there and

then sleepless nights because they're not there,

worrying and wondering and wandering

and finding peace with letting go,

opening up, giving in, not giving up,

never giving up, no, showing up, yes,

growing to love the happy mess,

carpool and play dates and sloppy kisses,

brilliantly swept paintings on newspaper,

clay figurines that don't make sense to anyone

but you. The creation is perfect.

You make lunches and make believe,

adopting their dreams as your own,

holding their hands and swallowing your pride,

watching and waiting and listening and

loving with abandon and adoration.

You cry, crawl, walk right alongside,

growing up in their shadow and 

eventually following their lead,

trying to teach them manners and numbers

while they teach you patience and perspective. 

In this complicated world, 

the smallest things matter most.

Revision.

These days, I am learning a lot about the type of mother I want to become. Thankfully, I am surrounded by inspiration. Just yesterday, I met with another mother of a child with DS. She has three sons, and her oldest has DS. She's adorable--and she's tough. She admits her son's diagnosis made her tougher, keeps making her tougher as she realizes she needs to be his greatest advocate in a world that can so easily dismiss him. Her mantra? "It is what it is." "But," she said, "it is GOOD."  She too welcomed me to "the club," as they all call it, this quiet society of fierce mamas of children with special needs. It's the club you never really wanted or expected to join, but the initiation is instant and the support genuine. These women are (excuse the cussing) badass. They are badass hard core. But you'd never suspect that layer when you meet them because their smiles are so big and warm. Even better. They're deceptively hard core badasses. And I kind of want to be them. 

But I don't have to look that far to know the type of mother I hope to become. In every moment of need, my mother has been there. At my moments of greatest joy, my mother has been there. When I was sick at school, my mom brought me home and took care of me. When I struggled to finish my first marathon, my mother walked alongside me. When I got married, my mom helped me with every important detail. When I delivered my first child, my mom was in the room. And in this time of soul-searching reflection, my mom continues to be right here. She loves me gracefully, kindly, selflessly, but she also loves me with a strength that cannot be shaken. I never stop needing her.

It is one of the beautiful facts of life that we are children before we are parents. We are given models for years before we love our own children into being. That's how it should be. We have to fully receive and feel the love of a parent before we can ever begin to try to give it ourselves. Even then, it takes incredible strength and selflessness. Loving the child might be instinctive--it's allowing your love for that child to serve as a foundation in an ever-changing and ever-challenging world that takes strength. My parents loved me into being. Clay's parents loved him into being. For years, we have been fiercely and selflessly and joyfully loved. We still are. They continue to love us with everything they have. Our parents could not have given us a greater gift. Because of them, our hearts are full, overflowing even, and we rejoice in the opportunity to love our boys into being exactly who God made them to be. There is a lot about this parenting thing we are still learning, but we know where to start: with love. And we also know it never ends.

(Have you seen these Proctor and Gamble commercials? Oh my, I love them)

Clay reassured me today that "we gotta walk before we run before we fly." Our little family--at least me--is still walking on this new path.  But I hold out hope that one day we will run. And eventually we will fly. I think Grant is on board. I put him down on his belly the other day and he promptly rolled over. Check that developmental milestone right off the list. Here he is showing off his new skills:

Finally, my awesome aunt Michelle sent me a link to this great piece: "Why being a mom is enough."

Love always.