Don't Cry, Mom

Don't Cry, Mom

Funny thing about being a mom: Some of it's not that funny.

Don't get me wrong: A lot of it is joyous, glorious, fulfilling.

Even when you're sleep deprived, at the fraying end of your rope, wishing you'd had your tubes tied when you were eleven, one look at those tiny, precious faces and somehow it's okay.

You have your babies, get to call yourself Mom.

Don't Cry, Mom

Then they start doing shit. You gotta start kissing boo-boos.

They have to get immunized. They don't like it. Sometimes you have to help the nurse keep them still, hold them down. All for their own good.

You tell yourself, Don't cry, Mom.

They get pushed off the swing by the little prick next door. Even though their pride is what gets hurt the most, their lip trembles, their eyes fill. They never want to go to the playground again.

Don't cry, Mom.

They get bit by a dog. Have to have stitches. They hold up pretty well; you're a wreck.

The doctor says, "Don't cry, Mom."

They score the winning point, they hit home runs, they get the starring role in the school play.

Don't cry, Mom.

They get dumped by the loser you hoped would dump them. They're devastated. You know it's for the best, you wished for it, dreamt of it. But their heart is broken.

Don't cry, Mom.

Then the worst. They grow up, marry, start having babies of their own. By some cruel twist they want you in the delivery room. It's the most painful labor you've ever had.

Don't cry, Mom.

Then there are more babies. You don't think they need more. You're not that thrilled even though the first baby is among the finest specimens ever born and your love for them knows no bounds. But they insist and before you know it, between them all, they've got six all together.

You didn't ask for them, but you've gotta see them.

It's love at first sight.

Don't cry, Mom.

Then one of your grown up babies calls to talk about her baby. The one who's spent 3/4 of her six year life struggling with a still unnamed, Cerebral Palsy like illness. The one who just broke her finger because she can't walk without a walker. And even then...

She says they think something is wrong with her baby's bones, the break is odd. She needs one more specialist. She will probably have to use a wheelchair now.

The air sucks out of your chest. Your fingers grip your phone so hard they might break. Your heart beats so loud you almost don't hear her say -- Don't cry, Mom.

Related Posts

The Bravest Thing I've Ever Done

Working within this fear-filled framework, I have accomplished feats of which I thought myself incapable. After all, everyone knows that bravery isn’t the absence of fear but the act of proceeding in spite of it. See, I was born with a piece of me missing; the part of humans that causes them to feel things and not allow the feelings to destroy them. It was too much to bear, the feelings and the being human. They ripped me open and left me bleeding constantly. Depression from a very young age exacerbated this defect. Once I discovered alcohol, I found the solution to the feelings: kill them all.   Read more >

Blogiversary: Unexpected Lessons from One Year of Blogging

On August 4th, 2012, this space was born. I was away on vacation last week, so we’re celebrating late. Sorry, sweet little blog. I have thought about what I would say in this post often the past year. Much like an actress practicing her Academy Award speech after her first so-so B-film, I thought about what I’d reveal; how much I’ve learned, how much I’ve grown, who I’d thank, etc., etc.   Read more >

Is Food Blogging Too Hard?

Last week, I gave a 2-hour talk on how to start a food blog. I felt like a spoilsport. It all seems like so much work, someone responded. Why do you need to be a good photographer? Can't you just change one or two things in a recipeand share it with people, for fun? What if I only want to blog for fun? Who cares if people want to reprint my recipes elsewhere?   Read more >

Recent Posts by Kathleen ODonnell

Comments

In order to comment on BlogHer.com, you'll need to be logged in. You'll be given the option to log in or create an account when you publish your comment. If you do not log in or create an account, your comment will not be displayed.