I woke up today...

I woke today to find my baby a boy. I know that sounds odd to say but truly it has hit me like I didn't think it would. How can I explain this in terms for all to understand? When my son was born I was in a fuzz, to say the least. I had found myself a 21 year old mother who was struggling in a relationship I was no more prepared for than I was for motherhood. For the next thirteen months I would juggle work, motherhood, and the struggles of an abusive and controlling man. I loved my son's father, this I do believe, but I painted him into a corner. I have accepted my role as it is. I know there is no excuse for a man to ever strike a woman or even be tempted to, however, I knew his history getting into that situation and I was trying to make a round key fit into a square hole. He was a fatherless child, a young man left to fend for himself in a world that didn't coddle or cradle him. He was scared, as was I, but he let his fear conquer himself and was left doing nothing! When I say nothing I truly mean nothing. No working, cleaning, and basic human emotions? You mine as well forget those. And so I painted him into a corner. I begged and pleaded, I yelled and nagged and like all animals if trapped they lash out. I should have known it would happen but I had never been adult before and I wanted his help. In my life men worked, they provided for their family and my job was to take care of my son and smile at all the right times, that was the role of a woman. At least that was the notion. But my life did not go in that direction and so after thirteen months it came down to how many mouths I could feed. Two is easier to take care of than three. I asked him to leave, I begged him to leave, I literally threw him out, but like a bad disease he kept coming back. I was young and now see my errors but finally I looked at my son and realized that's who he'd become and I left that man for good. So I spent my son's baby years in a fuzz, like I said.
I regret that I missed it all. I hardly noticed his first step, his first coo, and don't remember half of what other mothers remember. Does that make me a bad mom? I don't know but I hate that that is the way it was. I was babysitting for the first two years and spent a lot of time wondering when his mother would come and get him. Once the fuzz lifted, once the clouds parted and I could see the sun again it all became clear. I was his mom, not mother which is too harsh of a word for the relationship we now share, I was a mom. And so I have devoted the last six years of his life to solely being mommy. We share a special bond not easily mistaken for anything else. I laugh with him more than anyone else and after eight hours at work all I want to do is see him. He makes me mad, he makes me sad, but that is what all mom's feel. And so I think that through it all I have been in survival mode for so long I have missed his steps. Now he's eight and I am just trying to catch up. Eight. What a delightful age. He has more mood swings than most women I know and he's becoming independent which is killing me slowly. He wanders in the mall, he wants to cut his own path through a crowd, and I am left standing back yelling "Wait give me a minute to catch my breath."
I wonder than if all mom's feel this. Is it just me because I did miss so much? Do all mom's feel the sharp pain in their heart when their child asks them to not walk them into class anymore? Do all mom's hang on a little longer to the hugs that are so embarrassing for them to give? What about the mom's whose child can't do those things? I guess for me that is what makes it all so sweet. There are mothers whose children cannot hug, or walk to class, or cut their way through a crowd. Children that cannot fight back, they don't have the health to do so. That's what makes it all so seem okay. He's healthy and happy. He loves being him. And it's all because I didn't decide to lay down and take my fate quietly. I fought for him. I fought for me. I fought to provide a life worth living. Hug your child today, hang on even when they try to pry you off, hang on. Realize that even through tantrums and sleepless nights it will soon pass. Realize that the baby stages wizz by so fast that one day you will be standing on the sidewalk watching them walk away. Eight. How did I get here?