Post by Rhonda on May 3, 2009 6:57:13 GMT -5
About the Doubt
By Wanda Simpson
About the Doubt From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Moms & Sons
He cried for the first time at eleven o'clock one February morning. It would not be the last time, but it would be the best time. I had given birth to my soul and did not even know it.
An enthusiastic young nurse, not yet used to the arrival of new life, grinned at me and said from beneath her garishly flowered surgical cap, "You have a beautiful baby boy! Do you want to see him?" "No," was my flat reply. She giggled and brought him to me from behind the drapery.
"Oh... he's so ugly," I said. And he was - bald except for a fringe of shoulder-length, stringy brown hair, and covered in blood and some sort of let's-not-talk-about-what-it-is goo. I was drugged, but I remember asking myself, What's the matter with you? You aren't supposed to think or act like this!
That was Thursday. By the following Thursday, we were home, and I was waiting for that "mother love" thing to kick in. I nursed him, I held him, I changed him, I bathed him, I this'ed him and I that'ed him... and I waited.
So I can't tell you if it was while I was winding the swing or cleaning up something better left to the imagination, but there it was - a moment when my heart felt as though it were stuck on the upside of a beat so powerful that had it burst free from my chest it would certainly have ended up orbiting Venus.
The years passed. I had some doubts about this love that felt so powerful. Doubts as profound as the love I had for my son colored every moment of the next twenty years. His childhood was destined to be fraught with struggle. There was never enough money. There would be no Prince Charming to come along and save us from the poverty I fought to overcome. Positive male role models for my son were nonexistent. The men I attracted were not interested in signing up for the family plan, and any less than that was simply not an option.
Try as I might, underemployment became my principal career. I went back to school with dreams of becoming an educator. When day care was not available, I dragged Matt to class with me, where he sat through long lectures without complaint. Four hundred and sixty-four dollars a month meant tough choices on a regular basis, and we visited the food banks more than once, not just for food, but clothing as well. Many a meal consisted of nothing more than boiled potatoes. My meager credit rating deteriorated to horrendous as rent took precedence over luxuries like a telephone and credit cards. I finally got my bachelor's degree, but my dream would not be realized because graduate school proved too great a challenge for this single mother.
I had failed.
What kind of role model was I? Should I have kept him? Should I have given him up to a family who would have provided for him much better than I ever could? These doubts recurred with every layoff and corporate downsizing to which I fell victim.
One doubt that I never had was my love for and responsibility to him. He inspired me when there was no inspiration to be found. I watched him grow and his dreams grew right along with him. We rarely traded a cross word. He grew up long before he should have. When worry consumed me, he comforted me, soothing away the tears that flowed, despite my efforts to control them. This loving, wonderful child deserved so much better. By being his mother, I could not let go of the feeling that I had done him some great disservice.
Yes, I doubted myself, but never doubted for a moment this one mission in my life. We spoke openly of anything about which he was curious. I answered his questions to the best of my ability and admitted my limitations when I simply did not know. But this I did know: he was never bad, just sometimes did things that were not good. It was my belief that love without condition was not love without responsibility. On the few occasions when he got into trouble, he was expected to face the consequences of his actions; but I was, and always will be, there.
In spite of the challenges, we persevered, and we laughed far more often than we cried. Matt and I were a team.
Disruption and upheaval were regular parts of his existence. Money issues dictated that we move a lot. He attended no fewer than seven different elementary schools. Every move was either an attempt to improve our situation or simply save us from homelessness. There were only two constants in those days: our love and my doubts. By the time he got to middle school, it was clear he was someone special. Repeated displacement had robbed him of opportunities he would surely have been offered under more stable circumstances. Yet Matt had shone like a beacon in every school that he attended. His hard work, resultant scholarships and financial aid made it possible for him to go to college.
We continued to speak regularly about anything and everything that was going on in his life. Memorial Day weekend of his sophomore year he came home for a visit. I can't recall how the conversation started, but he talked about one of his roommates whose father was the CEO of a major international corporation. John had grown up not wanting for anything but had told Matt that he would trade it all for the kind of relationship that Matt had with me.
Then Matt said to me, "Mom, I want you to know that despite being dirt poor and never knowing where the next meal was coming from, my childhood was the happiest time of my life. I would not trade having had you for a mother for anything in the world. You gave me a sense of self that tells me that I can accomplish anything if I set my mind to it. You taught me values that I cannot find fault with, and I learned by your example what true love is. I could not have created a better parent if I had been able to custom order you. I feel incredibly lucky to have had you for my mother. Thank you for giving me life." With those words, my choice was finally vindicated.
Matt graduated from college with honors. He managed to study abroad for a year and is now in California pursuing an acting career. I don't worry anymore about whether I did the right thing. His life, his courage and his determination reassure me daily that he is the best person he can be, and I take pride in the fact that I had a hand in that.
By Wanda Simpson
Reprinted by permission of Wanda Lynn Simpson © 2003 from Chicken Soup for the Soul
By Wanda Simpson
About the Doubt From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Moms & Sons
He cried for the first time at eleven o'clock one February morning. It would not be the last time, but it would be the best time. I had given birth to my soul and did not even know it.
An enthusiastic young nurse, not yet used to the arrival of new life, grinned at me and said from beneath her garishly flowered surgical cap, "You have a beautiful baby boy! Do you want to see him?" "No," was my flat reply. She giggled and brought him to me from behind the drapery.
"Oh... he's so ugly," I said. And he was - bald except for a fringe of shoulder-length, stringy brown hair, and covered in blood and some sort of let's-not-talk-about-what-it-is goo. I was drugged, but I remember asking myself, What's the matter with you? You aren't supposed to think or act like this!
That was Thursday. By the following Thursday, we were home, and I was waiting for that "mother love" thing to kick in. I nursed him, I held him, I changed him, I bathed him, I this'ed him and I that'ed him... and I waited.
So I can't tell you if it was while I was winding the swing or cleaning up something better left to the imagination, but there it was - a moment when my heart felt as though it were stuck on the upside of a beat so powerful that had it burst free from my chest it would certainly have ended up orbiting Venus.
The years passed. I had some doubts about this love that felt so powerful. Doubts as profound as the love I had for my son colored every moment of the next twenty years. His childhood was destined to be fraught with struggle. There was never enough money. There would be no Prince Charming to come along and save us from the poverty I fought to overcome. Positive male role models for my son were nonexistent. The men I attracted were not interested in signing up for the family plan, and any less than that was simply not an option.
Try as I might, underemployment became my principal career. I went back to school with dreams of becoming an educator. When day care was not available, I dragged Matt to class with me, where he sat through long lectures without complaint. Four hundred and sixty-four dollars a month meant tough choices on a regular basis, and we visited the food banks more than once, not just for food, but clothing as well. Many a meal consisted of nothing more than boiled potatoes. My meager credit rating deteriorated to horrendous as rent took precedence over luxuries like a telephone and credit cards. I finally got my bachelor's degree, but my dream would not be realized because graduate school proved too great a challenge for this single mother.
I had failed.
What kind of role model was I? Should I have kept him? Should I have given him up to a family who would have provided for him much better than I ever could? These doubts recurred with every layoff and corporate downsizing to which I fell victim.
One doubt that I never had was my love for and responsibility to him. He inspired me when there was no inspiration to be found. I watched him grow and his dreams grew right along with him. We rarely traded a cross word. He grew up long before he should have. When worry consumed me, he comforted me, soothing away the tears that flowed, despite my efforts to control them. This loving, wonderful child deserved so much better. By being his mother, I could not let go of the feeling that I had done him some great disservice.
Yes, I doubted myself, but never doubted for a moment this one mission in my life. We spoke openly of anything about which he was curious. I answered his questions to the best of my ability and admitted my limitations when I simply did not know. But this I did know: he was never bad, just sometimes did things that were not good. It was my belief that love without condition was not love without responsibility. On the few occasions when he got into trouble, he was expected to face the consequences of his actions; but I was, and always will be, there.
In spite of the challenges, we persevered, and we laughed far more often than we cried. Matt and I were a team.
Disruption and upheaval were regular parts of his existence. Money issues dictated that we move a lot. He attended no fewer than seven different elementary schools. Every move was either an attempt to improve our situation or simply save us from homelessness. There were only two constants in those days: our love and my doubts. By the time he got to middle school, it was clear he was someone special. Repeated displacement had robbed him of opportunities he would surely have been offered under more stable circumstances. Yet Matt had shone like a beacon in every school that he attended. His hard work, resultant scholarships and financial aid made it possible for him to go to college.
We continued to speak regularly about anything and everything that was going on in his life. Memorial Day weekend of his sophomore year he came home for a visit. I can't recall how the conversation started, but he talked about one of his roommates whose father was the CEO of a major international corporation. John had grown up not wanting for anything but had told Matt that he would trade it all for the kind of relationship that Matt had with me.
Then Matt said to me, "Mom, I want you to know that despite being dirt poor and never knowing where the next meal was coming from, my childhood was the happiest time of my life. I would not trade having had you for a mother for anything in the world. You gave me a sense of self that tells me that I can accomplish anything if I set my mind to it. You taught me values that I cannot find fault with, and I learned by your example what true love is. I could not have created a better parent if I had been able to custom order you. I feel incredibly lucky to have had you for my mother. Thank you for giving me life." With those words, my choice was finally vindicated.
Matt graduated from college with honors. He managed to study abroad for a year and is now in California pursuing an acting career. I don't worry anymore about whether I did the right thing. His life, his courage and his determination reassure me daily that he is the best person he can be, and I take pride in the fact that I had a hand in that.
By Wanda Simpson
Reprinted by permission of Wanda Lynn Simpson © 2003 from Chicken Soup for the Soul