If my mom were a blogger I know exactly what she’d be like. She’d be the kind of person who pours her heart onto the page without worrying too much what other people think. She would start writing thinking no one would read – except maybe her kids – and then realize her ability to create a community around her would work magic in the blogosphere as well. People would read because she was a mom in the time before mommy bloggers and therefore her story is different. And yet it’s very much the same.
I could never have imagined how the advent of one small child into my life would change things, permanently. I was pretty passionate about everything I tried, passionate about business, passionate about training, passionate about travel, passionate about the mountains and skiing. So no one ever expected me to drop it all in favour of one small child.
I also could never have imagined how much time one small child took up. I think I envisioned myself getting up in the morning, dressing the small (and of course perfect) child in something becoming, and sitting, sipping tea and reading mind-expanding material to said child so that he or she grew up to be something extraordinary. The reality, as you can imagine, was quite different and a bit messier.
The day the earth-shaking child chose to make her entrance was cold and snowy… I won’t go into boring detail about the following day but it was indeed D Day and while I remember thinking, “Well, I will never do this again,” I was in for the surprise of my life. What was about to happen to me resulted in not one small child, but 4, and my life being co-opted and enriched in a way that was totally unexpected.
At 4:31 p.m. on December 21st, a child was born. She looked at me with my eyes. Then the whole world shifted.
Those of you who are members of The Red Dress Club will recognize the beginning and end of this piece as a recent prompt. My mom read what I wrote and then sent me a piece of her own, part of which is excerpted above.
“You should start a blog,” I told her.
“I wouldn’t have enough to say,” was her response.
I confess I laughed. My mom? Not have enough to say? She’s interested in everything. She could write and write and write and still not run out of things to say. She would write thoughtful posts. Insightful posts. Funny posts. She would probably write a lot of poignant posts. She would write posts that would connect to something in people and they would comment. And then she would click on links and follow tweets and read others’ writing and comment back.
That’s the sort of person my mother is – through her involvement in various things she becomes part of something. As far back as I can remember she’s been genuinely interested in people’s stories.
My mom is not a blogger, but her earth-shaking child is. And right now, reading the things I have written – especially recently – I imagine it’s hard to be my mother. So because I have, yet again, shaken her world, I will use my own blog to tell her this:
I know you’re worried.
I know you wish you knew how to help.
I know you’re beating yourself up about not noticing sooner or not coming by more. About saying the wrong things. About not knowing what the right things are.
I know you’re watching and reading and trying to understand, and I love you for it.
I know you don’t really understand though.
I actually don’t think you can. If you haven’t experienced this – especially this experience as it relates to being a mother – I really don’t think it’s possible to know what it’s like. During the times I feel good, even I can’t remember what the bad feels like.
I imagine just knowing I’m struggling, whether you understand it or not – and perhaps especially if you do not – is consuming you with stress and worry.
You might feel as though I’m not reaching out to you enough. Don’t take it personally – it’s not really anything to do with you. I just can’t right now.
I don’t know why this happened and I’m not entirely sure how to fix it, but I feel like I’m getting closer to finding the way.
You have to trust that it will be all right.
That’s what I’m doing. I’m holding on and trusting that it will be all right.
This is not to exclude my dad, but I think for my mom it’s different. And besides, that’s not what the prompt said. 😉
Linked up with Mama Kat, prompt #2: If my mom were a blogger…
