I thought that in writing how I felt, what I'm learning and the new challenges of being not just a mom, but a mom to a child who has spina bifida, I would find peace. Peace with my own crazy thoughts, Peace with my anger, peace with my confusion, peace of mind in any increment at all.
So, it should come to no surprise that I'm here to announce that I was wrong. Very wrong.
It's always been a chore for me to hold back my feelings. An absolute nightmare to get me to apologize and downright impossible for me to control my temper. Very few things in my life and the world make sense to me. Motherhood being one of the few exceptions.
Motherhood has been the one place where I feel like I fit. If Isabelle asks me a question, even if I really, really don't want to answer it, I do. Rarely have I ever been known to say, "BECAUSE I SAID SO!" I like to offer an explanation. I think she appreciates being treated like a big kid, and I know that even though it takes a little longer then "go ask your father." it saves me from wondering if she will be confused later, or get information that I don't agree with. I.e "Isabelle, what you heard was incorrect. We wash our hands EVERY TIME we go to the bathroom." We're still trying to clear that matter up.
When Roman was a baby it didn't matter that he couldn't walk. It didn't bother me that he was on my hip at one. Because every other mother was right there with me. I was the same as them. Nobody had to know that in a matter of time Roman would be dealing with mobility issues. Roman is getting a walker. Roman is getting an assistive device. Roman is getting equipment. We're going to be different now.
This is where things take a very drastic turn. This is the part where I turn into a monster.
I do not know where being a mother stops and being a monster starts. Part of me knows the second I have gone overboard and part of me can easily justify that by reminding myself that I am my children's ONLY advocate. Where do I draw the line between letting something like a picture on the internet effect my sleep or not? I have no control over it, I can easily shield it from my children's eyes and I can choose to not look at it. But, why do I have this insatiable desire to speak up? What will it change and why can't I just keep my mouth shut? Why is it so easy for me to assume that people do what they do to directly hurt me, or my children?
The biggest "what-if" in my life is will I always be a monster or will I eventually level out and learn to just be a mom who fights when the time is right and shuts up when it's necessary? When did this mom-to-monster transformation take place? How can I stop it?
I can easily blame it on pregnancy hormones, I can blame it on boredom, I can blame it on my love/hate relationship with onions or my hate for pretty much anybody who can wear high heeled shoes because they're not 5'9...and a half. okay, 5'10.
Honestly, I can play the blame game like nobodies business. This trait is all my mother's fault, she made me wear a pumpkin pin for pictures in the 4th grade. Unreal. I know.
But when do I become just as bad as "everybody else?" when does my fighting and my judging and my constant battles make me the bad guy? When do I eventually turn into a monster for good, lose control and become what I've been fighting the whole time?
This monster is completely consumed with sadness and regret and fear and anger and....
Actually, just admitting that I think I've answered most of my questions.