"... and i just feel like we're all trying to find a nice comfy place to cope. someplace not too scary and not too safe." Those were J's words in an email to me this evening...
And a fucking light bulb goes off in my brain. OK. Maybe not a light bulb. Maybe something more like a night light.
I've tried to post for days. I've written and written and nothing's quite right. I haven't even been able to corral my confusion well enough to define it with words.
It's not quite depression. Not quite overwhelm. Could almost just be the January Blues. With a nice dose of anxiety. But it's not.
Damn this shit is heavy. The worry and fear about our children. And then it becomes worry and fear for ALL children. So I worry about Mia, and I worry about the children in Haiti. And then I worry about the children right here on my block. And I feel for the patients(moms) at work. And I think they KNOW that I feel for them because I listen and I'm always sweet with their babies. We're all just moms trying to keep our babies from harm and heartache.
It doesn't matter if it's bullying or bipolar. It doesn't matter if it's the awareness of an extraordinary gift and wanting a child to SOAR. It doesn't matter if it's congenital or acquired. Treatable or terminal. Or just the heartache and angst of puberty. It doesn't matter if it's an accident or act of god. As mothers, we all have these moments hours days weeks lifetimes of fear sadness pain rage when it's time to protect our cubs.
I remember a friend who would feed her toddlers M&Ms and fluffernutter sandwiches. Appalling. And she would say I just want them to be happy. And I thought it was ridiculous to equate candy and marshmallows with happiness. Nevermind the whole nutrition/cavities thing. This friend had grown up with a schizophrenic father and a financially unstable family. As a result, she was determined to make a lot of money. She never wanted to live in financial fear again, nor did she want her children to ever have to worry about money. She became a lawyer and married a lawyer and they made a shitload. They had 3 kids. They were financially secure. They were happy. And she still fed them M&Ms. Like all the time. Just to see them smile. Cause the memory of her own childhood sadness was so close to the surface that she just couldn't bear the thought of her own children being sad too.
I thought of her the other day as I was desperately trying to make a successful Mia & Mommy day. M&M. I looked at Mia and thought I just want her to be happy. And so much of the time all I see is sadness in her eyes. I keep searching her face for a glimpse of innocent carefree child-happiness.
It's seldom there.
She has nightmares.
She's in our bed most nights, and we can't say no to her. I can't. Bruce won't. She shakes with fear. She won't tell us her dreams cause they're too scary and if she says them out loud they'll be real.
So I just want to hold her all night so she might feel safe. And not afraid.
It's so hard to figure out what the right thing to do is. I know you all know what I'm talking about. I know it will all turn out ok. I know that we have the love and resources to make it through. We've done it before, and we'll do it again.
We all will
But still. We mothers can't help but think what if i fuck this up what if i make the wrong choice say the wrong thing irreparably damage my baby overlook something choose the wrong doctor teacher therapist school district medication. What if I choose the wrong words. What if I'm not there at the right time. What if I'm not doing enough for these children and those children.
So J's words keep ringing in my confused brain. we're all trying to find a nice comfy place to cope. someplace not too scary and not too safe.