A Mother's Ache

The Mother Ache

12/5/23

When they are young,

You sometimes wish

That your body could feel what it’s like without the warmth of theirs;

without their sticky hands ever grasping for yours.

You even forget you have a body of your own.

Because being a mother to babies requires every square inch of you, even the parts you were certain were just yours.

When they are young, you sometimes wish

They’d stop telling you every single little thought that comes into their mind.

And singing every song, and shouting, “Look at this, mom!” one hundred times a day.

You wonder if you’ll be able to hear your own thoughts again someday.

Because being a mother can bring a deep lack of silence, that can feel overwhelming.

When they are young you sometimes wish

That they didn’t need help with every scratch, every bump, and every bedtime scare.

Because at times you go without care, to care for them.

And then they grow.

They do the thing they are supposed to do.

They start to become their own.

It’s the healthiest possible thing.

They explore the idea of a world without your hands nearby to catch them.

They are an ocean away. You are no longer their sun or their moon. You hope they land in your solar system.

Then you look on and wish (desperately)

That your body could feel the warmth of them crawling into your lap

That their hand would reach out for yours.

You wish

That they’d tell you every little thought inside their head

You want to know every ring around their planets, every blossom on their mind trees

You long to hear, “Look at this, mom!” again.

You wish

That they wanted you to fix up their big boy scratches; broken hearts, hurtful words, disappointments.

You would give your own arm to be able to bind up the wounds that ail them.

But inside you know that these are the hurts they must begin to learn to work through alone.

Motherhood is the strangest character arc.

We tell the mothers of young ones to cherish every moment, but they are doing their best.

Their bodies are sore and their minds are tired.

I wonder at times if it’s even possible - to completely cherish the moment you are in as much as you will treasure and long for it when it is gone.

Now, he is bigger and older and trying to find out who he is.

And I wait.

(While inside my heart aches)

And sometimes, when the moon is it’s bluest,

He touches my arm when he sits next to me on the couch, and forgets just for a second, that we are two, not one.

Or he’ll tell me how funny it was, when this thing happened at lunch. Or how great this Anime is.

And every once in awhile when I’m really four-leaf-clover-shiny-penny-on-the-ground lucky, he’ll tell me what hurts, and allow me the deepest honor -

To carry it with him.