Sometimes I wonder whether I would've done this, become a parent, if I'd known about this kind of love. Mostly, and obviously, I think: Of course. Don't be silly. But sometimes my love for this child feels almost like an affliction. Like my heart is in the fist of a beast, and I'm utterly helpless. Some tiny thing will catch my attention... Sofia quietly watching a squirrel at the feeder, or the way her lips look while she's sleeping and that love feeling will start to bang around inside my chest like a huge, flapping bird.
Just tonight, I was helping Sofia dry off after her bath, and I noticed the pale blue veins that run under the skin of her lower back, like marble. She was babbling away in full color ("Do you think if I mixed vinegar and spices and green oil, I could actually make peas?"), but just for a second the sight of those veins and of her blood coursing so visibly through her made her seem so fragile, and made life itself feel so precarious.
Which, of course, it is and it isn't. This love it's like an ocean of joy, but with an undertow that's something else. Grief, maybe, or fear. In Shakespeare plays, all those characters who are just stricken with love are always tossing out expressions like "over-fond." That's how I feel about this child of mine.
Yesterday, I arrived to Sofia's after-school early for pickup, so I secretly watched her on the playground for a while. Being a systematic rule-follower, my daughter is very intent on staying in the same after-care program, year after year. And many times, early on in the school year, most of the kids are strangers to her. They'll get close enough before the school year is over, but for now, she is a little shy. She observes everything intently, seems to enjoy herself, and talks a blue streak as soon as she gets in the car ("Gracie threw me an invisible star today? And I caught it andphhtttstuck it right here to my forehead."). Her teachers, who are lovely and really seem together, tell me that Sofia is very friendly and empathetic, but that she often keeps to herself not that this is a problem, just a tendency they notice.
Still, sometimes Sofia tells me a little something about her day that just kills me like, she'll mention how some of the kids sit on a row of pillows during morning meeting. "Would you like to sit on the pillows, too?" I ask, and she shrugs a shy little shoulder. "Well, Imightlike to," she says, and smiles, "if someone wanted to save me a little spot one day."
But yesterday, I watched Sofia swinging by herself on the swing, raising her head up to look around every now and then, watching the other kids streaming by in noisy packs, and my heart just seized up. It's so hard to let go of this desire to protect her to fold her up and stuff her in my pocket so that she'll never get hurt. Whether or not Sofia's lonely on the playground now, certainly at some point in her life the world will turn a cold shoulder her way, and she'll need to make her own warmth. It's hard to reckon with.
We all go through this, I know the wistful side of parenting. I was in my friend Jen's office yesterday, admiring the photos of her son. Every child is a work of beauty, but hers happens to be beautiful in an illuminated oil-painting kind of way: red, red lips, shining gold ringlets. "Could you die?" I asked, and then asked again, because Jen was distracted. "Could you justdie?" She finally sighed and looked up at me. "Of course," she said. "That's how every parent feels."
Exactly. I think about the things I didn't understand at all before I had a child. Like the Pieta.
The past couple of weeks have been stressful for me, and surely she can pick up on my tension in certain areas.
It makes me sad to think about how our idiosyncrasies can wholly affect our children's perception of us and the world at large. I know with certainty that I haven't been perfect on this journey. Surely, I have been selfish at times. And often my emotions ruled, bringing poor judgement into play.
Also it isn't always easy being a single mother. It isn't always tough either, if you have the right kind of support... but, it definitely brings things to a whole other dynamic in regards to truth and consequences. It's a whole other kind of game.
This last weekend, I took Sofia to the beach to relax. My hope was that we could just spend some time away from the city, and chaos and just be on a new adventure together. We mostly accomplished that, although not without colliding headfirst with a situation that was years in the making, and certainly put a dark twist on the weekend.
The little darling, she didn't even notice any of that. She only seemed to notice the waves, and the fire, and the woods, and the fresh air. I tried my hardest to pay close attention to her changing moods throughout the day, and stayed present to who she is, and who she is becoming. By the end, it was her soft constance, that was soothing to me and ultimately brought me back to balance.
It is her, Sofia, through her wonder, and laughter, and raw love, that bring me into the best version of myself. It's a strange push-pull that we are in, as mother-daughters, teachers-students.
here is a love that I carve out myself for this tiny little person, who grew inside of me, and grows into herself every day... But that love can hardly contain itself and the line flirts dangerously close with an overwhelming fear. The kind of fear that only exists in knowing that you have something so precious, and that there is always the potential to lose that precious. The fear grows parallel with the love and hides cautiously in the shadow. It's like this big shovels just reaches into your soul and begins to create a space for this little person. You can't help but wonder what would fill that space, if that little person were to one day go away. It is like a glass tremendously full. But, at any moment, you are aware, the glass could be knocked over and become desperately empty.
Tonight, as I tucked my daughter into bed, she asked that I put her in a cocoon. "What's that?" I asked? "You know..." she said, "It's when a Mamma puts all of her love into your blankets, and the love protects you, so you can sleep better. That's what happens with butterflies. Did you know that?"
I kissed her forehead and tucked her in, and my heart went flapping again, around my chest like a bird.
"Yes, my dear, I did know that."
