i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
- E.E. Cummings - i carry your heart
Here’s something for the list of stuff they don’t tell you before you become a parent. There are probably thousands of things on that list, like how little sleep you’ll get, how often you’ll encounter vomit and how low your own self-esteem may get thanks to your children. Most of the time, experienced parents don’t tell you these things because it might scare you away. This might not scare you away, but it might surprise you.
Here it is: You will hurt more for your kids than you will for yourself. If you’ve ever been disappointed, been dumped, felt unattractive or been depressed, multiply that ten-fold when you watch your kids go through those emotions. And add a dash of helplessness to really make it difficult.
Maybe I’m naïve, but this, I never expected. Now that my kids are young adults, I encounter this on a weekly basis. Broken hearts, college rejections, hurt feelings, not being asked to the dance, low self-confidence…sometimes I feel like E.T. with a glowing heart when they go through these things and all I can say is “Ow!”
I realize that I weathered all of these same storms and made it through as a better and more well-rounded and perhaps empathetic person, but my first instinct is to throw my kids a Pity Party and try to fix whatever isn’t working. That’s the last thing that they want – my involvement. In fact, usually, my best course of action is none, which makes it infuriatingly frustrating. I usually have to sit back and hope they might want to talk to me till they feel better – they usually don’t. And so I wait and I heap on them generous doses of silent love and understanding and hope that it will be enough. It never is…for me or them.
* This post was originally published in my Momhood blog in September 2006. Sigh. Some things never change.
