Hey Owen. Tonight as you were sleeping, I did my usual check and turned off your lights. I repositioned your half hanging frame back onto the bed, and I tucked you back in under a beloved tattered quilt. I laid down next to you. Actually, I laid on top of you, but you didn't budge. And I gently cried.
I cried because I knew you were the best gift God has ever given me, and I never understood that joy or love parents speak of until I had you. I cried because I never want you to think that you are a less of priority than my book, my work, or my blog. I cried because I knew I was guilty. Guilty of robbing you of precious time spent between a child and a mother. Guilty of making you think my work comes before you or that my crafts and hobbies are far more important than you. When you were little, you were my priority, and I placed very little before you. I savored every minute I got to spend with you. And then I started this blog, and good, no great, things started to happen. And then I got a publisher. And then you became even lower on my priority list. I cried because it was the truth. I cried because I was ashamed. I cried because I knew I would never get this year back. I missed out on many memories with you, my only child, because I had a loving group of women raise you this year. I feel awful that I blew away that precious time of watching you grow up. I don't want you to remember me as a busy mom. I admit, I have been selfish at times. I am sorry. Terribly sorry. I really got lost in what was important to me, and I will try harder to be a better mother to you. I miss you so much, even though you are here with me. I'm tired of saying I can't. I'm tired of deadlines, and I'm tired of teaching you that those things are more important than a relationship between a mother and child. Admittedly, some of that I cannot blame on work. The words "I can't" has almost become a trained response, and as time goes on, I find myself using the sentence more than I like. That is why I cried tonight. The last thing I want you to remember about me is "I can't. I'm busy."
I cried because I knew you were the best gift God has ever given me, and I never understood that joy or love parents speak of until I had you. I cried because I never want you to think that you are a less of priority than my book, my work, or my blog. I cried because I knew I was guilty. Guilty of robbing you of precious time spent between a child and a mother. Guilty of making you think my work comes before you or that my crafts and hobbies are far more important than you. When you were little, you were my priority, and I placed very little before you. I savored every minute I got to spend with you. And then I started this blog, and good, no great, things started to happen. And then I got a publisher. And then you became even lower on my priority list. I cried because it was the truth. I cried because I was ashamed. I cried because I knew I would never get this year back. I missed out on many memories with you, my only child, because I had a loving group of women raise you this year. I feel awful that I blew away that precious time of watching you grow up. I don't want you to remember me as a busy mom. I admit, I have been selfish at times. I am sorry. Terribly sorry. I really got lost in what was important to me, and I will try harder to be a better mother to you. I miss you so much, even though you are here with me. I'm tired of saying I can't. I'm tired of deadlines, and I'm tired of teaching you that those things are more important than a relationship between a mother and child. Admittedly, some of that I cannot blame on work. The words "I can't" has almost become a trained response, and as time goes on, I find myself using the sentence more than I like. That is why I cried tonight. The last thing I want you to remember about me is "I can't. I'm busy."
Oh, motherhood! We are never perfect at it, no matter how hard we try. You are a better person, and therefore a better mother, because you stretched your wings. If you had not done it, you would have not learned so many things! Deep breath, smile, resume searching for your balance of "musts" and "maybes". Best of luck!
ReplyDeleteI can't say it any better than Leslie above. Carry on, warrior Mama.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing this because I think this i something we all feel. My husband has a difficult time with this since he regularly gone before the kids get up in the morning and not home until they are asleep. And while I think that this is something that is important to think about and be careful of, it is also okay to have your own interests and be your own person, especially as kids get older. Don't be too hard on yourself!
ReplyDeleteoh, sweetie - you made me cry into my coffee. I think all mothers feel this way, I know I do. What I also know is that time for myself is an important part of keeping me sane enough to be a mother (I realise this is a different situation to what you are going through with your deadlines). And one positive thing is that Owen with see that a mother can be a person in their own right, with goals and needs and drive. It will stand him in good stead when he makes his own family - your future daughter in law will thank you ;-)
ReplyDeleteEvery moment we steal for ourselves is a moment stolen from time with our child/children (whether writing a book or simply getting our hair done!) ... but that is motherhood. We must take some time for ourselves otherwise our hopes and dreams disappear and we end up just shells ... My favourite saying at the moments is "This too shall pass" ... those deadlines will be met and you'll have time to play again - swings and round-a-bouts :)
ReplyDeleteEvery good mom feels the same way, but we need to balance our wants and needs, our families wants/needs corporeally and individually, plus the demands on us from outside the walls of our home - extended family, friends, work. Honestly, the balance rarely gets/stays in balance very often or long. The great part is, you recognized the balance was out of whack and now you can do what you can to rectify it! P.S. Only GOOD parents recognize this, so guess what that means???!!!
ReplyDeleteBest wishes in your search for that elusive balance. I am searching for it, too, so I have no great words of wisdom. I just hug mine tight every moment I can!
ReplyDeleteYou are a better mother by showing him being a creative productive adult is important. You surrounded him with other loving adults so he knew you still valued him. Dont beat yourself up.
ReplyDeleteThere are times when I am sitting at a traffic light and I could sob for the lost time raising my kids, especially my daughter. My toolbox was missing a few pieces when it came to parenting skills. I didn't know better but always tried to do better, particularly when comparing my mothering skills to my mother's. My daughter is now 25 and I recently shared my sorrow and tears with her and she looked at me very perplexed. She told me it all worked out okay and she doesn't remember half the stuff I do and that I did a good job raising her. I don't know how much that assuages my (still) guilt, but I did give my kids good building blocks upon which to live their lives and for that I am extremely grateful. Hugs........
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteThat's love for you. It is hard knowing we are faulty and fall short of being that mom we want to be. Super hard. Owen still loves you, and you are doing a great job.
ReplyDelete