I have been absent the past week. Physically and emotionally. My mind has been full, and the words just weren’t there to fully express … anything. I have been beaten down, downtrodden, all at my own hand.
I am the mother of three children ages eight, six, and 4 weeks. I went to visit my older children last weekend. My children were excited to meet their new brother. Even so, I could sense my six year old was troubled. After a while, he asked me, with a long face and all, “Momma, will you love him more than us?”
My heart sunk. Did he really just ask me that? I wanted to cry and cry some more. I couldn’t believe he really said those words. It was like he had said that I don’t love them. At all. I understand his concerns though. I don’t live with them, so I’m sure in his mind, I must love his new brother more than himself and his sister.
How could I love one child over another? My momma heart is big enough for each child. I remember thinking, as I was pregnant with each child, “How am I going to have enough love for this new child?” Funnily enough, I have never had difficulties finding enough love to go around. I love them … each one. My love actually grew with the birth of each child. But, it’s so hard to explain intangible ideas to a young child.
In my overly thinky brain, I browbeated myself. I sucker-punched myself. Shame on you for your past mistakes! Shame on you for not being there for your children! Shame on you for not knowing how to explain love more thoroughly! Shame, shame, shame! For a whole week, I lost myself. I finally came to the realization that nothing was going to be changed by my self-abuse. What I needed to do was take hold of myself and face reality. And the reality of it is … I don’t have to take it. I don’t have to take my attitude. Being defeated is merely surviving. It’s no way to live. So, I choose to seize the moment and LIVE.