Seven years ago, at about this time, I was having contractions. A lot of them. With little break in between. For hours.
I didn’t have time to really dwell on my fears when I was actively in labor, bringing Kiran into the world. In quieter moments during my pregnancy, I had ample time to ruminate over the “what ifs”….
But in those active moments, inside contraction after contraction, all I could focus on was that moment, getting through the pain.
It seems a good metaphor for my life, lately. It has been yet another season of contraction after contraction, painful moment after painful moment, being pulled through a lot of darkness. All I can focus on is surviving the moment I’m in.
Last night, I pulled myself out of that survival mode as I reminisced about the drive to the hospital to be induced to have our baby boy. And I remembered the overwhelming fear. And I acknowledged – internally – that I still carry fear in my heart when it comes to this little boy.
The difference is living for seven years as his mama and taking on all the experiences that has entailed has equipped me to work through the fear and take on the painful fight. Again and again. Wave after wave comes at me, and I just keep pushing.
Resilience isn’t something you have; it’s something you practice.
Seven years ago, I was being induced in a hospital bed. Scared out of my mind, with little idea of what was ahead.
On the ride to the hospital, about two hours from home, we were driving through a storm. The sky was simultaneously lit up with lightning as a rainbow appeared. Kiran’s dad said it’s the kind of night superheroes are born.
He was right.
Tonight, when I showed Eric the picture of the sky from that night, he said it made sense. The lightning signifies the challenges Kiran faces in his life. The rainbow? His personality, his attitude, his demeanor – always. That boy brings all the colors to our lives. Every. Single. Day.
I can’t believe we’ve had seven years of color-filled days.
I am the luckiest mama.
What a privilege it is, that I get to hold all your disappointments. And you don’t have to.
Kiran was supposed to go with his first grade class to a pumpkin patch today. But he has pneumonia, so he’s missing it.
And I am SO disappointed he doesn’t get that experience this year.
But he has never given any indication that he feels disappointment. He is so present in the moment he’s in. So he doesn’t have to feel it. But boy, I do!
And that’s okay. This version of motherhood is different in this way. The positive is I don’t have to watch my baby boy feel disappointed. I don’t have to help him navigate that – at least not yet. Maybe someday.
But the negative? I hold it all myself.
But, watching his body struggle through this illness, I would take it from him without hesitation if I could.
And so, I am happy to take the disappointment. It is a privilege I have as Kiran’s mom.