Almost 13 years ago, I was blessed with a beautiful baby boy. He was everything I had hoped my son would be and more. He was funny, resilient, and fearless. He was also kind, generous, loving, compassionate, and empathetic. He could just look at you and know if you needed to be left alone or if you needed a cuddle. I was one of those Mothers who was blessed with a special bond with my son. We knew what each other was thinking, how they were feeling. We knew what to say, what to do, how to navigate the uncomfortable silences. But not anymore.
Today is day 3 of my son refusing to come home. Now, there is a lot to this back story that I won’t get into. The kid in me understands how he is feeling. The Mother in me wants to fix it all and make everything alright. As a Mother, it is my job to protect my children and keep them safe. It has been made blatantly obvious to me over the last few days that I have failed as a parent. I spoiled, coddled, cuddled, and protected him to much. He is screaming out to have a voice of his own, to stand on his own two feet and make his own decisions, consequences be damned! This morning I awoke to realize the relationship with my son will never again be the same.
This makes me sad. It makes me want to cry and scream and curse the world. How do I maneuver through this minefield with new lines that have been drawn in the sand. I can no longer treat him like my little boy, but yet he is just barely being categorized as a teenager. How do I guide him to become the man he is meant to be, and not the man that society sees him becoming. The line he is walking is a thin one. One misstep, and it is a downward spiral into the seedy side of humanity.
It’s Saturday, my son should have walked into my room to see if he could go hang out with his friends. Then, later in the afternoon, he would call and ask if he could have a sleepover. None of that happened. The last two nights in my house have been eerily quiet. I have slept, dreamless yet fitful. I have awoken feeling like I went twelve rounds with Rhonda Rousey (which we all know I wouldn’t last two seconds with her) and going through my day like a zombie. The things that usually bring me joy when I am in a dark place don’t appeal to me. I don’t want to curl up under the covers and watch a movie. I don’t want to read a good book. I don’t want to take a long bath and unwind. I don’t…I don’t…I don’t.
How will this new chapter end, I am not sure. I am scared, the thought of tomorrow makes me terrified. Lyrics from a song that both Trisha Yearwood and Leann Rimes covered describe my feelings perfectly.
“How do I live without you, I want to know. How do I breathe without you, if you ever go.
How do I ever, ever survive? How do I, Oh how do I live.”