Motherly Ruminations

Luke spent an afternoon with his Grandparents last week. I knew he would have a great time (and goodness knows, I appreciated the break) but I still felt a familiar ache when they left.

There's something that pulls a little in my heart whenever I see my child riding away from me in a car. It has nothing to do with trust, or even fear. It's just something so deeply fundamental within me that even I don't completely understand it. I feel like it's almost unnatural for my children to be away from me. And maybe it is, in many ways.

It reminds me of a poem by a man named John Donne that I was forced encouraged to read in high school. It was a love poem to his wife, I believe. In it, he compares two people who are in love with, of all things...a compass. Not a directional compass, mind you, but one of those drafting tools that help you draw a perfect circle and measure angles.

He said that when the two ends of the compass are pulled apart, they lean towards each other in longing. Never truly separated, but joined forever by design.

I remember thinking as a teenager what a silly analogy that was. How could a person look at one of those awkward, metal things and think of true love? Surely there's SOMETHING out there that would create a more pleasant image? A more flowery and romantic tone?

And then I became a parent....and I realized that the poem is perfect exactly the way it is.

I know what you're thinking. It's about romantic love, Steph...not motherly love. Well, I say it's about both (and it's my blog, so shut up). It's about true love. And what could be truer than the love that a parent has for their child?

Technically, it's about a couple that is being separated for some reason. Well, Chris and I aren't going anywhere, as far as I know. I'm going to spend the rest of my life driving that guy crazy and I couldn't be happier about it.

But my kids will leave me someday. Just as surely as the sun rises, they'll pack up a car and drive away one final time. And I'll be standing there, like the fixed end of a compass....watching them go.

But I like the idea that we'll always be connected. That there will be moments, however infrequent, when they'll miss me...almost as much as I miss them. That we share a connection that supersedes the physical world. And that, no matter how far they roam, we'll always be two halves of the same whole.

And now I'm being melodramatic, I know. The best I can hope for is to have my children and I end up as really good friends some day. Nothing mystical or supernatural...just friends with history.

But, for right now...right in this very moment...I'm more than that to Luke and Evie. I'm their protector, their teacher, and their biggest fan. I'm the one they get the angriest with and the one they love the most (sorry, Chris). I wipe their tears and their bottoms all day long. You just don't spend that kind of time with a person and not develop a special relationship.

But, most importantly, I'm their tether. And I'll always be that for my kids.

Oh, I'll give them room and let them sail. I promise, I will. But I'll always be there to anchor them when they need rest.

And sure, there might be some high fives between my husband and I when that last kid leaves the nest...but, right now, I have a very hard time imagining my life without them in it.

Every day, in every stinky way.



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P.B. (post blog)

I heard a lullaby once that reminded me of this very topic. I wanted to share the lyrics with you because it's so very meaningful to me. Enjoy...


BABY'S BOAT

Baby's boat, a silver moon
Sailing in the sky
Sailing o'er a sea of sleep
While the stars float by.
Sail, baby sail, out upon that sea.
Only don't forget to sail
Back again to me.

Baby's fishing for a dream,
Fishing near and far.
Her line, a silver moonbeam is,
Her bait, a silver star.
Sail, baby sail, out upon that sea.
Only don't forget to sail
Back again to me.


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