Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Mommy Guilt Redefined

I'm sure I feel as many other mothers across the country do, a whole new version of mommy guilt. A deep sense of guilt -- I still have my little kindergartner to hug and hold and another mother does not. Every little thing he has done these past 5 days has given me a second thought, did those mother's get to have that moment? 

His first tooth is wiggling, did they get that first toothless picture? He finished his first chapter book all by himself, did they get to high five their new readers? He wrote his first Christmas list all by himself, did they get a chance to save that for his baby book? Six years old is sort of like a baby's first year all over again, so many firsts and new accomplishments. How many of these firsts did they get to have?

 I was trying to find some sense of peace this past Sunday, the third of Advent, the day we light a pink candle for Joy. The irony was so fierce and biting. I could only think of Mary, the sacrifice she gave, of her son for us. But then we received the greatest gift of all through her and her son. And in their own way through their ultimate loss, these grieving mothers have given us a great gift -- perspective. We are able to perceive through their loss how precious and fragile life is, especially the golden days of childhood. How sweet each day with our children is, how each moment, each milestone is an irreplaceable gift.

I feel like the Little Drummer Boy -- "I have no gift to give" these mothers and fathers. But like the Little Drummer Boy, I will give from my heart the most precious gift I can give, prayer. It is all I would want. But if I were those mothers I might hope too that mothers and fathers would give extra effort to savor each nugget of silliness, each toothless grin, each simple drawing, each small victory, each hard lesson learned. I would want them to fill a memory book with every gem they could muster, because even if hopefully we never live a day in this life without our children, they will not be little children forever. 

So when my precocious little six year old boy sneaked downstairs last night when he should have already been asleep, instead of scolding him, I shared a bite of my ice cream sandwich and he shared a hug.
 
This Christmas I will honor their lost children and their grief with joy. I will unwrap each day like it is Christmas, because each day Christmas when you are surrounded by the sweet gift of a child.

Our Lady of Sorrows, Pray for all who grieve lost children.

2 comments:

MH said...

That was beautiful, R!

Therese Jacobs said...

I loved this, Robina! Thank you.

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