An Open Letter to My Son

Dear Liam,

What does it mean to me to be a Mother? There are so many responses clamoring for expression ... some of them contradictory, opposing, ambiguous & indistinct, but I'll try to sort them out here.

As parents, society tells us we must be caretakers, overseers and authority to our children. And the only way we learn how to do this is through our own parents, regardless of how successful or unsuccessful they were in raising us to be happy, healthy & wise. The blunders flow down from generation to generation, but so do the successes, hopefully. My father always told me that I could do anything I wanted to do in life, but my mother told me that I couldn't. She told me that I shouldn't expect anyone to love me, or to think that I'm pretty or smart, and she told me that I can't have what I want in life. These are some of the messages that were passed down to her from her own mother, and then down to me. That's how it goes, but I'm hoping my father's words will win out before I die.

As far as mothering, the problem for me was that the caretaking and the authority got all mixed up together. I thought taking care of you meant that I shouldn't allow anything bad to happen to you - no falling down, no pain, no mistakes. I tried to take control of your life in ways I had no right to, all in the name of mother love. I was scared, not just for you but for myself, too. It got worse after your father died - I was holding on to you for dear life.

The truth is, I experienced fear, self-doubt, confusion, anger, guilt, frustration and anxiety on a daily basis (well, almost daily). Why did I have to pretend that I had it all figured out? Why did I worry about what other people thought? Why do I still feel so guilty for divorcing your father? The divorce was necessary. I did not deserve the treatment I received and I also did not want you to grow up thinking that the insanity that he and I had created was what love & marriage is all about. I wanted you to have a chance to see what real love is and not recreate your parents' marriage the way I had recreated mine.

And now that you're 18 and having a child of your own, I find myself afraid of losing you. I am all too aware of the mistakes I’ve made with you over the years. Please know that I have never wanted to cause you pain and I regret that you have suffered as a result of my fear, anger and confusion. I am very sorry.

As a parent, I believed it was my responsibility to handle it all and keep you from seeing how scared I really was and how truly difficult it was to keep all the balls in the air at once, to never let you see that I am more like you than you will ever know. I thought I was supposed to make you believe that I am wise, to make you understand that I was in control for a good reason - I have experience with life. Ha! You see right through it and you have for years. That's a myth only another parent could believe.

And I thought that if I didn't stay "strong" and maintain control, it would undermine my authority. But, I've recently learned that by trusting you and your choices, by allowing you the freedom to fall down, to experience pain or make mistakes, I earn respect, which is something that authority does not guarantee. Liam, I would much rather have your respect than your compliance. Damn, some days you seem to be so much clearer than I am, I should be asking you for guidance. Some days I feel like the student rather than the teacher. And I'm OK with that, because of my belief that we are Spiritual beings having a human experience. You were born into my care as a child, but I believe that you are a Master. And many of your friends have wisdom beyond their years and have come into this world to lead, to make changes for the better, to be part of creating a new Earth. That's why I love them, too, and I stand in awe of all of you.

We are all One - that is what I know to be true. Because I know this, I struggle with what it means to be a Mother in this 3-D reality we live in. I know that spiritually I am no better than you, no wiser, no higher, no more advanced. But, in this game of life, I'm supposed to pretend that I am. I'm not sure I want to play this game anymore. I want to be rid of the guilt and the judgments, but it is a challenge for me - "society" is a vigilant dictator, always throwing rules and regulations at me. I must do this or that, I must take control of my child, must make him "behave," I must make sure he has a "good" education (by what definition?) otherwise I will not be a GOOD parent. I want to say screw it all. Sometimes I feel as though I'm blazing a new path through the jungle without a map or a compass and I'm completely lost. And you know what? I bet there are other parents like me out there, but society needs us to maintain the illusion of control, otherwise it all falls apart.

But when I put the fear aside, I realize that it has been my greatest joy to watch you grow and come into your own power. You have so much Love to give. I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it. Love creates Unity and Oneness. That is what you want more than anything else - I see it in your eyes and feel it in your hugs. Life is so much more than we can wrap our limited human brains around. It requires fully engaged hearts and souls and I see a Mothers spiritual job as encouraging that engagement.

So, back to my original question - what does it mean to be a Mother? It means to give birth to a unique being, an expression of life and Spirit separate and apart from oneself. It means to nurture that life in a way that ensures growth and individuation, that encourages and allows that person to become fully empowered to be All that is within his or her potential. And it means knowing when to let go.

Liam, I know that you will rise to meet your challenges and achieve your goals. I have absolutely no doubt of that. Yes, you are my hero.

I love you,

Mom

Why is it ...

that teenage crises always seem to arise in the middle of the night? Parenting is both rewarding and challenging, joyful and heartbreaking and this morning I find myself limping through a heartbreaking challenge. I need to blog about this but right now I'm too tired and I need to save all my energy for graduate student crises. Later.

Liam: My Son, My Hero

I enjoyed myself today. I started this afternoon at the movies with my 16 year old son (he invited me) and we giggled our way through The Simpson's Movie. From there it was on to Verizon to figure out why my phone had suddenly died and where he spent the waiting period playing with Chocolates and Blackberrys and calling friends from the cell phones hooked up to the wall. He is a delight and draws attention to himself, especially with his odd manner of dress, strip of long bleached hair running down the center of his scalp, multiple facial piercings and yellow highlighters in his gaged earlobes. We then moved a couple doors down to Coldstone for some amazingly decadent ice cream. Me? I love the Black Forest Dream: chocolate ice cream with cherries, brownie bits and chocolate syrup. Liam had cookie dough with a peanut butter cup mix-in served in a waffle bowl.

We bicker, laugh and make fun of one another when we're together; he brings out the playfulness in me. And he loves to get his mother sputtering while trying desperately to reassert her authority. Authority, yeah right. I am so grateful for our relationship; I have been afraid at times of losing him - raising a teenaged boy without the support and input of a father is challenging, to say the least. I fear he has gotten too much female input, feminine energy, wisdom, ideals and objectives. I frequently see his anger at having to grow up these past 7 years without a father, without a male role model, without having any man to turn to, to ask questions, advice, help. But, I believe in the perfection of All, including his father's untimely death.

Liam has taught me a lot. He has stood up to my limiting beliefs, my fears, my ignorance. I have many times allowed my own thinking to turn 180 degrees after listening to his perspective. While I take credit for teaching him to ask questions, to look for what is hidden, to investigate the unpopular course, he has taken my instruction and run right off the playing field with it. He has become my greatest mentor and I relish every opportunity that I am given to take off my "older, wiser" hat and listen with new ears and see with new eyes.

So, despite the parental failings I count when I am in the mood for self-deprecation, I know that I have managed to turn out a very capable, resourceful young man. I know that, although he is rebelling against society with his in-your-face physical appearance (I miss his beautiful natural hair and his handsome face unadorned with ugly pieces of metal), he has taken in much, if not all, of what I have taught him. I have a deep, unshakable belief that he will be successful, whatever that means to him. And it is this belief that allows me to accept him for who he is and look at him with eyes full of love and admiration even when others are shaking their heads at his outward appearance. I know him on the inside.