A Mother's Plight

I think it is every mother’s plight to bear the pain of her child. I remember the honest physical pain I felt when D broke his leg. Also how I ached inside as I bandaged M from many a wound. But by far the deepest pains I have borne with my children are pains of the heart.

On D's last day of preschool on the prairie I deeply felt his ache over leaving his beloved teacher behind as we moved on to new pastures. When M cried and cried over missing her pink bear one night when we realized she had left it at D's preschool earlier that day, I cried with her. When one is struggling with developmental milestones, with missing Daddy, or from pure childhood overload, a mother feels it so strongly with the child cuddled in her arms.

Most of the time there is nothing I can do but hold them and empathize. Occasionally, I can distract and a time or two I have been able to lighten the burden.

On a recent cold and crummy afternoon, D, M & I were all cuddled under a blanket reminiscing about our house on the prairie and all the people, places and things we missed about it. On the list were things I expected: the cat, the big sandbox, the farmer and his hay baler, the friends; and things I didn't expect: the wildflower patch, the gravel road, the clothesline. The clothesline? I didn’t even know they realized or remembered it. But yes, I miss the clothesline too, so we decided to do something about it, and so it became our afternoon activity. Amid laughter and pride and sheer delight, we strung up our wash and basked in our accomplishment.