Mother in The Hood: To My Oldest Son

This is another blast from the past, written when my oldest was just a little guy and I had just decided to stay home full time. Up until that point I had always thought it would be possible to work full time after college while raising a family. As it turned out, I couldn't handle both responsibilities. So I chose to focus on my family. And that, my friends, was easier said than done!

This is a poem for my son

Whose spirit I prayed for and whose body

I housed after thirteen months of wondering

When I could be a Mommy

And to whom.

 

Your compact body, chest burly and sturdy,

Cradled in my arms.

Your soft cooing.

Those were the times when we were close,

When I was home, watching

Your little chest filling like a balloon

as you sang love songs to my milk.

 

But then I stopped nursing. 

Went back to school, to work.

Left you with Grandma all day long

Until she became your mother

and we became strangers.

 

I didn’t know what food you liked,

or if you wanted to be held

facing out

or in. 

Didn’t know that when you cried all night, your forehead

stained in red pain, your body too hot,

that it was just a new tooth.

Not cancer.

 

So I came home.

And when you cried,

I cried too,

Mourning for the person formally

Known as me

Who faded each day as you grew

Brighter,

More needful.

 

I didn’t know that what you gave me

Was more than I would understand

Or even feel for many years.

I didn’t know until my ambition lay breathless and weak,

When I could stand over it, staring.

Wondering at its beauty, its fragility,

Its validity. Its probability,

That you are better than the degrees,

the career, the paycheck.

The accolades.

  

I didn’t know

so many things.

But now I do. 

Like why you get so mad that you tear

through words so hateful,

a rabid dog gone crazy.

Like why you scream at everyone

for no reason other than

you’re thinking of something

else entirely.

And we happen to be in the way.

 

There are so many things I want to tell you.

So many things to say sorry for. 

Like I know why you are the way you are,

do the things you do.

It’s because of me.

I gave them to you.  

And I’m sorry that instead of

the best of me,

you got the worst.

 

 So I write this to you, my oldest son

my guinea pig, who

suffers at the hands of this mad scientist.

I pray this for your spirit and your body I housed

after thirteen months of wondering

when I could be a mommy

and to whom.

May the red in you pale to pink,

and your passion turn to compassion.  

Comments

[Susan Hayward]

Susan: Rick doesn't call this talent. I think he views it more as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

[Susan Hayward]

Alisa: You have inspired me in so many ways. You are brainy even though you've gone through 7 pregnancies. My IQ plummeted with each kid!

I think the tug-of-war will always be there no matter what. But your season of life will sometimes be stronger and pull a little harder to what's most important and feasible at that moment. What's important is to get a little bit of you time in there on a regular basis. My brain is percolating right now. I think this needs to be a post!

Your time will come. And when it does, you will see how all of these years raising children has enriched your sense of self. You will be a better artist for having been and always being a mother.

[Susan Sudol]

Does your talent ever stop? Lovely, just lovely!

[Alisa]

What a beautiful poem. I can relate so well. As soon as my husband graduated from the "U" with his masters degree I vowed I would go back. So summer semester found me happily back up at the "U" enrolled. By this time I had two children. They would wake up to a babysitter every day and getting the study time during their naps never quite seemed to work out quite like I thought it would. By the time I got them both down at night and the house hold chores done I was too tired to start studying. I was also having an internal tug-of-war as to what I wanted to do vs what I thought I should do. Needless to say, I dropped out again. It just didn't seem like the right time for me. I've often thought about going back and finishing my college degree. It is still on my "to do" list. But with seven children I just don't quite seem to think I have what it takes right now to add one more thing. I'm so inspired by you and your creative spirit and your desire to do what you love. Like you, I love being a mother, but there is also this personal desire to do something for me. So now my plan is when my youngest is in preschool or kindergarten I will start again. We will see. Hopefully the tug-of-war won't return. Thanks for sharing. Alisa

[Susan Hayward]

Dana, You made it possible for me to finish school by being a surrogate mother (remember that quote? Grandmothers are mothers with frosting!) to Calvin. Maybe Calvin doesn't remember the details, but he feels a connection to you that was woven during those months when you made the long drive to Salt Lake to spend the day with him. I think my kids are so remarkable because they have remarkable grandparents! Thanks for all you have done for our family, and especially for me. You have always been a great cheerleader for us all!

[Dana]

Susan-I have to comment on this. Yes, I am the grandmother who tended while you fulfilled a righteous desire. But, you didn't give him to me, you shared him with me. He was and always has been YOURS! I have said for years, that I had a special bond with Calvin because of the months we spent together. But he doesn't remember it. Just you and I do. And he really is truly like you. Hooray for that! This writing made me cry. Not because it is sad, but because it shows who you really are! I always knew, Susan, that you would fall in love with motherhood. And you have. You are a most wonderful mother who gives her children far more than the average mother. Why is that? Because you are above average in so many ways. Thanks for letting others see inside of you. Your are remarkable!

[Laura]

Wow! You truly are an amazing writer. Oh and one humble mother. You are wonderful. It wasn't till I grew up I knew how flawed my mother was, all the times I thought my Mom had a manual and knew everything she was just learning too. She is my best friend, and the hero who made me who I am.

Your words were so real and true.

[Susan Hayward]

Shelby,
I figure that anything good that's coming out of Calvin these days is from his father.

[Susan Hayward]

Jana, thanks for reading!

[Shelby]

Expressed so well.

Mike always spoke so highly of that oldest of yours after scouts night. He apparently picked up many more of your best traits through the years!

[Jana]

beautiful poem! thank you for this :)