Mothers Love Your Children
As my young son screamed, rage consumed every cell in his little body. I felt my own anger radiate down my jaw, causing me to grind my teeth. I had only one thought, ìI just wish you would go away!î That thought would haunt me 16 years later.
When my son was born, I was 21 years old. Startled to find that I was a mother, I didn’t exactly embrace motherhood with open arms. I was selfish, unsure how this little guy was going to fit into my world.
I needed more sleep. Why did he always begin to scream at bedtime? I wanted to shop just a little longer, why did he dirty his diaper now? As I looked at the doughy flesh hanging over the waistband of my jeans, I wondered if I would ever again have the time to exercise?
As the years went by, I barged ahead ruthlessly with my life, dragging my son along with me. When I wanted to shop, I shopped, oblivious to my toddler’s need for attention. When he begged me to play with him, I always had something to do. I was a frequent visitor at the gym. The childcare was in an enclosed room that was all glass. My son would stand at the glass, screaming for me. I would keep my pace on the treadmill, pushing down my guilt. I just needed 10 more minutes!
When my son became a tween, he was full of stories. He was constantly talking to me, wanting my willing participation in the conversation. I would give him a distracted “hmmm,” intent on what I was doing.
When my son became a teenager, his life became a whirlwind of activity. In the midst of the dates and football games, he would stroll over to me and tell me an amusing story about his day. Instead of delighting in my teenager actually trying to communicate, I would sharply tell him that he forgot to take out the trash or clean his room.
Now my son is gone. I turned around and he had grown up. I lost a lot more than sleep and time. I had missed out on my son’s childhood. I was granted my wish of sleeping in, shopping and logging miles on the treadmill. As I looked back, I had only one thought, ‘I just wish you would come back!’
I cried out to the Lord in despair. I lay many nights in bed with my chest tight, feeling as though I could not catch a single breath. My mind played like a movie reel showing bits and pieces of time: His chubby hands holding mine, his little face looking up at me telling me a story, laying in bed saying, “Mommy, come and love me goodnight.”
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Mothers, love your children and cherish every waking moment. In the midst of dirty diapers and crying toddlers, see the beauty and embrace it. The moments with our children are fleeting and can not be taken for granted.
I have been blessed with another child. I am older and wiser now. I will cling to each moment like a drowning man grabs onto a raft. I will relish the mess, the endless questions and the lack of sleep.
As I look at my newborn daughter, I think about that little boy. I can not reach back into time and recapture his childhood but I will cherish the moments that I have left. I thank the Lord for his forgiveness and mercy. He is a healer of our wounds and a forgiver of our sins.
Tiffany Posey is a full time free lance writer who lives in Indianapolis. Married to a retired bull rider and mother of two beautiful children, 17 years apart, Tiffany finds plenty to write about! Tiffany admits to having a severe addiction to Flea Markets! When she is not writing or taking care of her children, she can be found dragging her husband around in his truck to pick up her newly found treasures.
Tiffany thank you for your transparency. Your courage to share this story will encourage other mothers to take a second look at their own walk! LOVE IT!!!!
Thank you Tiffany for this! My daughters are now 27 and 25 and I cannot believe how quickly they have grown into women. Now I have a son who is 10 and yes, I do indeed cherish every moment because in no time he’ll be grown and gone!
What an awesome testimony! Thanks for being real and recognizing where you were and moving towards where you need to be. So many mothers need to read this and realize they are not alone. Thank you for sharing your story.