Giving all of me until
almost none of me was left
Inconceivable it seems
to know not
was it gift
I wrote this poem over a decade ago when my two oldest children were around 8 and 7 and before my youngest was born.
I LOVE being a mom with its many extremes of emotion. Nothing else in my life has the power to consume me like the love I have for my babies. This love has pushed me to the very edge of who I am, tapping into the raw parts of my soul, demanding I play many roles that have stretched, stressed and challenged my strengths and weaknesses.
Momma Bear defends – Doctor Mommy heals – Parent Mother disciplines – Therapist Mom supports. Homework Mom just says, “Go ask Dad.” Every year of development has demanded I step up and play a new role. And what worked for one child didn’t always work for the other! Where was that freakin’ parenting manual when I needed it???
Anyway, over the last 2 decades I’ve often surprised myself by doing pretty damned okay. But there are also a few dismal failures I can barely face all these years later. My kids will undoubtedly face those same failures on a therapists couch somewhere in their 30’s.
Fact is, giving everything for my kids has been both gift AND theft. I freely gave of myself and sometimes it was probably more than I should have … AND parts of me were stolen when I wasn’t paying attention. There are so many gains and so many losses in life and mothering has been no exception for me.