I feel like starting this princess bride style
Is there no truer love than mother and child, a unique love, a bond that is bigger than what is physically or visibly tangible.
But it's hard. Some say there is no harder journey, which at this point I disagree being the mother of a dead child has been a lot harder so far. As caretakers we are challenged outside of ourselves, outside of our comfort zone, have our limits tested sometimes to an extreme, we do disgusting things for thankless people. And we aren't to complain, not for a second, because then obviously you're not a good mother.
The underlined is a bunch a hooey. Hooey we've bought into.
It is hard, it's so hard, but really amazing. It's not all rainbow farting unicorns by any leap of the imagination but there is joy in this job. It is a daily physical and emotional challenge and you are vulnerable the whole time, responsible for an entire person. What if you screw up, what if you mess them up for life, what if your kid dies.....
that's right. my son did die.
Every day my heart pleads to be pushed to the limits that once existed. I broke past those limits the day Bram died. I got taken beyond my breaking point and I lost it. I am still lost. My limits got pushed farther than I could handle, AND then some and I have to keep mothering?
Real life confession(as if this whole blog isn't): I suck at mothering. I love my boys. I love them to heaven and back. But sometimes they do push me more than I want to be pushed, more than I can be pushed. I get snippy. I get caught up in stupid petty nonsense, like matching clothes, or neat hair, or another package of gummies. I get irritated when A wants to nurse 17 times in a 5 minute span because he cant decide if he want to play, or if his gums hurt, or if he needs snuggles, or if another baby could be honing in on his milk. I'm annoyed when it takes 30...40...50... minutes longer than normal to leave the house because "I don't want to wear those shoes" and they cant remember if the shoes they wanted were taken off in the car or in the backyard or at a friends. I let them eat an entire box of gummies before breakfast because frankly the whining for gummies is just going to grate too much on my nerves. I can barely breathe anyway so just eat the box of gummies! I DON'T CARE.
When it comes right down to it though. I enjoy my kids. I love living with them, learning with them, learning from them, and occasionally teaching them things they didn't already know. I appreciate these little people. I appreciated their glory before Bram died, and even more so now. These wonderful people who on my bad days, where I physically cant get out of bed, they hug me, the love me, they tell me they understand and they miss Bram too. A sign that maybe I don't suck as much as I think I do.
Success in parenting: it's loving your children through it all, it's knowing that at the end of the day you couldn't have loved them any more than you did, it's not regretting the love you gave them if they were gone tomorrow.
By that measure, I am a success.
Thank you Bram, for making me a success. <3