Monday, September 12, 2005


I caught my reflection in the mirror last night as I carried my sleeping babe to bed. A peaceful sleeping child in my arms. My arms. I saw that familiar reflection that I've not paid much heed to over the years, other than a simple acknowledgement - oh, that's 'me'. That person that is familiar, yet a stranger. And now, a child in her arms. How foreign that reflection looked. I looked upon it with thoughts and feelings of awe and wonder and gratitude. How could I, this 'me' that I am, be worthy of such an honor and a blessing? How could I be entrusted with such a responsibility? Another human life. I can hardly comprehend the largeness of it. I've 'mothered' most of my life, but I've not been a mother until now. It seems so foreign now, where I can still recall how natural it was in my youth. I expected it, then, and took it for granted. It was my path, my destiny. I knew it with all that I was. That was then. But it didn't happen. Time passed. More time passed. I ached and yearned and somewhere along the line I became a foreigner. I lost that part of me. I cried so many tears. I grieved. But perhaps I have really gained, rather than lost. Perhaps I wouldn't have had as much respect for the importance of the job, had I taken the opportunity in my youth. Perhaps I would have been more selfish in my immaturity and unwittingly and unpreparedly transferred my emotional downfalls to my own chidren as my mother so adeptly transferred hers to me, and as I see my siblings have transferred to their children, and as I see some of their children transferring to their own children. It's tragic, to pass on the worst of ourselves, and be blind to it in the process. I pray, I pray that I don't pass my issues on. How I want to be wide eyed and aware of all that I'm teaching my child, in my words, in my actions, in my attitudes, in my expressions. He deserves a clean slate. He came into this world in perfection. It's my responsibility to protect him from me, the part of me that hasn't found herself, the part of me who hasn't arrived, who hasn't come to terms with herself, who hasn't embraced herself for all that she is, who hasn't learned to honor herself as a worthy human being, as an equal in this world. I've heard it said that with wisdom comes sorrow. If you climb a mountain to gain wisdom, to see all that you can see, suddenly you are aware of how much more you do not know, and you find that you are less satisfied now than you were before, in your ignorance. Hence the phrase, ignorance is bliss. I saw myself last night, a mother, with a babe in her arms. I'm humbled by the responsibility of the task before me, and terrified. I don't want to screw him up.


Blogger Suse said...

You won't screw him up.

But you will make mistakes because you are human. And he will become a stronger and better human himself because he will have to deal with you, a real and normal human with real and normal imperfections.

It's the little blips in life that help us and them to grow.

5:53 AM, September 14, 2005  

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