Thoughts of a Mom
Hard to Believe
It seems like just a few months ago that he was born. Such a tiny baby; two week premature. He was a lovely shade of blue when he was born; then, after only six hours he turned slightly orange. The pregnancy was no cake walk, either; early contractions that lead to almost four months of bed rest and four stays in the hospital resulted in caution and being overly protective of the new, colorful, baby.
School started and all of his teachers commented on his intelligence as well as his inability to remain quiet when he was not supposed to talk. Not hyperactive, just full of energy, his seemingly endless energy began to be spent playing team sports starting as early as four and ending as a senior in high school.
Then graduation came. He played along during high school and kept me frustrated and chasing him from one requirement to another. Boredom kept him from excelling, even though he knew the answers and could do the work, he chose not to. Homework was foreign, yet he took and passed tests with high grades without doing most of the work or putting forth any effort.
The frustration of his laziness at home became overwhelming as did his annoying habit of not picking up after himself. His room looked like a tornado hit and rarely was his floor uncovered. Things disappeared throughout the house and garage and the knowledge of where items were most likely hidden did not make it any easier to recover them. Joking about diseases and cures for diseases being found in his room did not deter him. Pretending to be sucked under his bed became an inside joke instead of the subliminal message to get him to clean his room.
Then came the day that he left home bound for Basic Training. Thoughts of being sad and missing him were put aside as the true feelings of missing him hit. No one thought to mention how hard these feelings would hit or the fact that the days of no contact would drag on and on. No one thought to mention that instead of elation at a cleaner house, dread of an empty room would set in. No one thought to mention that fear and anxiety would partner with depression and home sickness, even though he was the one that left home. No one thought to mention that the quiet that was once enjoyed would become dreaded because the quiet always brought in the tears.
Yet, through all of the emotional pain, there is more. There is the pride of seeing him start his own journey, run his own race, become his own person, become a man. The true meaning of bitter sweet becomes clear. An eventual acceptance arrives though it does little more than dull the pain of missing him. A small eye to the future as the realization hits that there is one more in the nest that will go the same route. There is one more painful, heart wrenching, filled with pride departure that has to be endured.
It's just so hard to believe that these times are here. That the pain and pride co-mingle so well. It's just so....
Hard to Believe