"I know I must have been loved like that, even if I can't remember it. I know my mother must have loved to comb my shiny hair and rub that Johnson's baby lotion up and down my arms and wrap me up and hold me all night long...so I'd have enough love in me to know what love was when I saw it or felt it again." --Cynthia Rylant in Missing May
The day our son, Elias, was born... Little did we know, he would change our lives for the better when he would be diagnosed with autism three years later...
Happy Mother's Day to all! On this Mother's Day, I am spending it in London with my first grandchild--a new season of wonder and awe in the journey of life. Observing my own child become a parent, I am filled with memories of who I was when I became a mother long ago. Of course, there were anticipation, fears, and apprehensions. But perhaps more than anything, there was a willingness to plunge deeply into unknown territory--to give this unchartered work everything I had. Deeply, I knew it was a new sphere of understanding how to love outside of myself--in a way I had never known.
Suddenly, with unexpected abruptness, I was content to be enclosed in a new world with my little daughter. Outside of our cloistered circle, the world outside continued to beckon. But I remember being content to stay wrapped in this newly formed cocoon with her and my husband. There was nothing I would not do for this new little babe. As I looked out of my New York City 24th-story view and heard the noise and rustling of the city, I wanted to crowd out the world for a while. Of course, I knew this exquisitely beautiful cocoon of time would not last long. There was so much newly-mint joy in that space of time. I suppose that is why we had six more children. 😀
Every child is a journey. They come with their own passport of where they will eventually go. Each of them has an unmistakable and individual divine nature that comes to imprint on your soul. Sooner or later you learn they were never yours to tightly hold on to and sequester. In fact, they cannot be endlessly protected; we are not our children's shield of safety. They were meant to fly away from the sheltered haven we tried to lovingly build for them. Yet, I have learned they will migrate back for you to hold and love again-- teaching us new things of their own journeys.
A few years ago, I met the mayor of a small village in Normandy, France. He was an older gentleman who was painting on a hillside overlooking his village. As we spoke to him, he told us a story I have always remembered: During WWII, his parents who were part of the French Resistance Movement, were caught and imprisoned in a camp. His mother, who was pregnant with him, was later delivered there by a very kind, compassionate doctor. On that night, she begged the doctor to save her baby's life and bring him clandestinely outside the camp to freedom. The doctor, knowing full well the parents could never see the child again, agreed. He knew of their impending death sentences. That night, in the dark, under a long trench coat, he swaddled the child under his cloak. He risked his life for a baby whose parents would never know their child.
A few minutes later, our French friend took us to see a picture of the mayor's parents. As I looked into their faces--so young, hopeful, and beautiful, I was and continue to be moved by their story. A young mother, knowing her fate and wanting to keep this child safe from the world gave him up to an unknown stranger--a doctor who happened to be on call that day in a prison camp. Perhaps I am further moved by the story because my own husband has delivered about 25,000 children and I know he would have gladly done the same deed on that night long ago in the early 1940s in France. But as I said, mothering takes you to places, both literal and figurative, you never thought you would or could go.
Here are a few thoughts on mothering I have had over the years:
--Give yourself a break. Mothering, especially in the first years, can be almost all-encompassing. When you daily try to fill the needs of little ones, carve moments to reset. And that means giving yourself permission to take a nap. That was always my own mother's healing balm of advice. Recalibrate. Rest. Relax. Every. Day.
--Reach out. Recently I heard of a young mother I know who has been having a difficult time because of the pandemic. Lift, encourage, and say a kind word. People so desperately need affirmations. We don't know the wounds or the current state of mental health of others, but we can connect and help out. Today when I was walking into Herrod's Department store in London, not one, but two security men opened the door for me as I pushed my grandson's stroller through the door. They smiled, nodded, and just made me feel better. We might think it is a small and inconsequential act, but kind gestures have a long shelf life.
--Build on your interests, both former ones before children, but also be brave and bold to learn new things. Everything you know and love can be shared with your children. Hold onto those passions you have always cherished so you can inspire your loved ones. Those are some of the tender gifts they will always remember and connect to. Books, nature, swimming, tennis, music, art, and cooking are some of my interests. For example, I love art museums. When we lived in Baltimore, we would sometimes trek down to the National Gallery. By the time one of my daughters was seven, she could give family and friends an amazing tour. Blog on My Cello Love Story
--Gather. Become a part of a community of mothers who help one another. Many parents do not live by their families. It does not matter if women are much older or younger than one another. In my younger years, I had sage counsel from women who I looked to for advice. Now I am older, I try to do the same for others. We can always learn from one another--even if we initially think people are not in the same "stage of life" we are in. Learn from unlikely sources who can teach you how to think in different ways and give you new perspectives. I will always remember what my Muslim neighbor told me when I first moved to Qatar, "Don't make boundaries with me, Maryan." She said it lovingly, and I knew she meant it. I learned so much from a mother who wore a burka. My life would be so different if I had not been her friend. Learn from others who are different than you. Blog on Spilling Love and Celebrating International Women's Day
--Have fun! Be creative. Give lots of hugs. Have a fun game, art, and/or music nights. Laugh a lot and go out and see the stars or a sunset or a firefly. Carve holy moments of time. I remember celebrating St. Patrick's Day with a friend. We all went on a picnic with our kids and dyed our hair that day. As we tromped through a park in Los Angeles, we sang and told stories with our green hair. We came home exhilarated, breathless with happiness to be outside laughing and frolicking with our children.
--You can do harder things than you realize because you have learned to love with no bounds. Being a mother of a child with autism has stretched and blessed me. Blog on My Autism Mountain Having a young baby die taught me to be outside of my skin. Blog on Traveling Through Time in a Day
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