Maternal Humility: A Breathtaking Blow

Years ago, in the intensity of my disintegrating marriage, my son was suffering. We all were, but he was showing signs of distress that were... unsettling to me. I took my concerns to a friend who, as a therapist, was able to confirm the seriousness of what I was seeing. She was compassionate, loving, and supportive. She listened to my ideas and offered others that I hadn't considered. And then, she kicked me in the stomach:

Christy, you are a good mom. You can do the things you suggested. You can do the things I suggested. You will do everything you can and while you will make mistakes - we all do - you will do all that you can. And, at the end of the day, when you've done all that you can do, you have to remember that... 

He has a Higher Power and it's not you. 

My child has a Higher Power and it's not me? Oh fuck...

It took my breath away. I experienced a physical pain, as if she'd come through the phone and literally kicked me in the gut. The silence was as full as my screams has been on the day I gave birth to that child. I was not his Goddess, I was his mother. I wanted to fight her, to explain how it wasn't so, but there was no point. There was nothing in my logical mind that could explain the reality... I'd overstepped my bounds. 

I was a control freak and I had overstepped my bounds in no less than a thousand other ways throughout my life, but this was different. This was my son's life. Wasn't I responsible for making sure he matures into a thriving, functioning, happy human being? In some ways, yes... but clearly, I was not alone in the care of this child. His soul came here to live and I'm in charge of some things... but not everything. This wake-up call shook me deeply, rocked the foundation that I'd built my identity upon.

Miraculously, on the other side of the seemingly unbearable pain, beyond this vicious dethronement, I found something even more surprising... an unmistakable sense of peace. The weight of the world, my beautiful son's world, had been lifted.

Motherhood is a job I feel (basically) equipped to do, not perfectly of course, but that's okay. I screw up and I make amends. I make mistakes and then learn from them. I miss the mark and then shoot again, with a more careful aim.

I was destined to fail at being his Higher Power... but I can be his mother. Thank you Holly Hamilton for that mom-bomb. You hit me with the truly priceless gift maternal humility, empowering me to be the best me I can be in that boy's life.