It's unfair that you live all your life in pursuit of your family. You give up sleep, the most precious of all the things, to change poopy pants McGee. You watch infomercials and beg that bottle to empty faster.
It's unfair that while you pursue your family, time is watching, waiting, and moving swiftly. You catch a ride one October night and before you know it, it's March, two decades later. You see no bottles, no toys, only a young man heading out the door. In desperation, you say, "Wait!" but Time, that old guy, has lost his hearing.
It's unfair that you give yourself away. Constantly. And when it's time to focus on yourself, you want only to continue to give but the moment is past.
It's unfair that no one prepares you for the overwhelming emotional journey you must take as your nest starts to empty and your body prepares for menopause.
I never understood how painful aging would be. I was unprepared. I am unprepared. I am pure liquid loss.
I can feel Noah's small, chubby hand in mine. I hear him saying: "I don't want him" when Aaron finally comes home from the hospital. I see Aaron's baby chunk and his insatiable sense of style from age three onward. (He rocked a suit jacket, sweat pants and flip flops like nobody's business.) I hear: "Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mom" and then it slows to an almost grinding halt. When was I last needed so desperately? I can't recall.
High school orientation is in three weeks. High school will be over with a click of my finger.
It's so complicated - womanhood, motherhood. You have emotions, hormones, chemicals coursing through your body. You have demands on your time, your mind, your soul.
You realize that sometimes you are permitted to wave a white flag. You are allowed to say, "I can't." Sometimes wounds need gauze and attention.
I tell these sweet boys, "I can't bear you growing up. Mommy is going to be so lost without you." They giggle, and they give me hugs and they say, "Oh, Mother, it's fine, you're fine, plus maybe we won't move out." Wait. What?
It's no wonder I have lost all my marbles.
For the love. Of all the rollercoasters I am on.
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