I cried in the car on the way home today. Part of it was stress getting to me. Part of it was frustration. There was confusing and a bit of self pity. But mostly it was the mom part of me.
Because before I became a mother I never really understood. I didn’t know what these motherly emotions were going to feel like. How they overcome you. That sometimes I can burst into tears just looking at her because I love her so much I can’t contain it. That sometimes all I want is to be left alone, but then I miss her when she’s not there.
That one day you have to just put her on a school bus and let it drive away without knowing exactly what she’s doing all day and with whom.
And that one day you’ll be in your office working and realize you’ve missed a phone call from the school and when you dial in for the message you hear that your child is hurt. And you missed the phone call.
I don’t know if it’s because I grew up in a house with just one parent, but even though I knew her father was on his way to get her, and even though I knew she’d be fine and he’d be with her and I had work that had to get done, every fibre of my being was desperate to be the one.
Because it has usually been me. Because when I shut myself in a quite room to worry and cry a bit at work, my mom was the person that I called.
And you know what? Her first instinct was to go to my daughter too.
It’s not that I don’t trust my husband to take the best care of her and make her feel safe and loved and comfortable. It’s not that I think moms are always better than dads and the whole parenting thing. This is about me wanting to be there – to remind her that I will always be there. That I have always been ready to be there. Because she is the best piece of me.
Because I may not always have the right answers and I may not always be able to check my temper, and I may not always give her what she wants, but I will always, always give her what she needs.