Friday - The Gift
Oct. 14th, 2005 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on the drive into work, I marveled on the beauty of the symbolism of a single Cheerio dropped into the palm of my hand this morning, the first gift my son has ever given me.
"May I have one?" I asked him.
He grinned. He looked at his tray carefully and chose just the right Cheerio that he was willing to part with. Carefully, he picked it up using the pincher grasp that he mastered a few short months ago. I held out my hand and he delivered his little treasure to me. I thanked him and tossed it into my mouth. The next piece of cereal that he gave me, I put in his mouth, instead. He chortled for joy.
At some point in the last year, we both decided that we really do like each other.
The idea that he is my son and I am his mother is still a novelty to me. I went so long as no one's mother and no mother's child that my identity became wrapped up in those two concepts.
I'm worried that I'm not any good at this, that I won't be what the mother he needs me to be. This is a huge responsibility to give someone who wasn't even responsible enough to take her birth control pills as directed. Actually, I did take them responsibly for almost 15 years. It was just that when I reached my mid 30's, the ticking of my biological clock was so loud that it distracted me and I got careless.
My son brought with him the things I had lost over the years. He brought back my writing and my poetry; during my pregnancy, I began hearing the muse after years of silence on her part. He brought back my sense of wonder. He bridged the gap between my father and I and helped heal my estrangement with the only parent I have.
I should have turned down the Cheerio. After all, he's given me plenty already.
"May I have one?" I asked him.
He grinned. He looked at his tray carefully and chose just the right Cheerio that he was willing to part with. Carefully, he picked it up using the pincher grasp that he mastered a few short months ago. I held out my hand and he delivered his little treasure to me. I thanked him and tossed it into my mouth. The next piece of cereal that he gave me, I put in his mouth, instead. He chortled for joy.
At some point in the last year, we both decided that we really do like each other.
The idea that he is my son and I am his mother is still a novelty to me. I went so long as no one's mother and no mother's child that my identity became wrapped up in those two concepts.
I'm worried that I'm not any good at this, that I won't be what the mother he needs me to be. This is a huge responsibility to give someone who wasn't even responsible enough to take her birth control pills as directed. Actually, I did take them responsibly for almost 15 years. It was just that when I reached my mid 30's, the ticking of my biological clock was so loud that it distracted me and I got careless.
My son brought with him the things I had lost over the years. He brought back my writing and my poetry; during my pregnancy, I began hearing the muse after years of silence on her part. He brought back my sense of wonder. He bridged the gap between my father and I and helped heal my estrangement with the only parent I have.
I should have turned down the Cheerio. After all, he's given me plenty already.
