As a mother, you feel you need to absorb so much.
Not having ever been a father, I don't know how it works for them.
But I can only describe it as like having to...
My little son was so sensitive and sweet. He was just made that way.
There were people in his life that were much too hard on him.
And I had to let them be hard on him. I let them convince me that
he needed to be tough. And of course, this is true. We all need to
be tough. Unfortunatly, sometimes we forget that the world will
be tough enough. We don't have to be the ones to do it.
I still remember his big blue eyes. They are the same eyes of my
granddaughter, his baby girl. But she, being a girl, won't have so
much "toughness" inflicted on her. It's okay to be soft and sweet
After I had my girl, and saw this, I realized that it's so much easier
to be a mother to a girl. When I became pregnant with number three,
I thought to myself that I would die if I had another boy. My heart
couldn't take it.
But it was a boy. And he was nothing like the first. He was rough
and tough and rarin' to go. Like a little tank. I came to understand
the toughness that boys get exposed to, when they handle it in a boy
way. But the first boy was not like this. He needed tenderness.
And I gave him plenty of it. But he needed more. He needed
acceptance. And I gave him plenty of it. But he needed more.
Now he's grown, and I watch in agony as he goes through diagnosis
after diagnosis (the current one being schizophrenia).
I watch as he goes through the hardness of life and the continued
lack of acceptance. As people continue to judge and "assess" him.
Yet he's entirely a charasmatic being. People flock to him.
He could be a pied piper.
He's charming, intelligent, handsome, creative.
When he plays the piano, it's almost a spiritual experience to watch.
He's a truly gifted individual. And he loves his baby.
I once said that being a mother is like having a steel pole driven
through your body. And the only way it will kill you, is if it's removed.
I feel like that every minute of every day.
You get used to the pain and you choose to be happy.
And you know what? They do too.
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