Read more of Ann’s contributions to allmomdoes here.
There’s a saying:
“Bigger Kids, Bigger Problems.”
There’s a lot of truth in those words.
Sure, I was overwhelmed with all the problems I faced while raising young children. I dealt with illnesses and learning issues, bullying and social problems, self-esteem and fears. And, at the time, they felt like life and death issues.
But, they weren’t. Not really. And, it’s only with hindsight that I can see that. Well, hindsight and comparison. Because “Bigger Kids, Bigger Problems” really is a thing.
My kids are all in their thirties now and have been living their own lives for quite a while. They have faced problems that weren’t even on the radar when they were young. And, as a mom to adults, it’s really hard to know when to intervene and when to back off. That need to fix and heal doesn’t magically go away just because your kids have more candles on their birthday cakes. And, even though I can truly say that I did everything in my power to prepare them for adulthood, watching them face things that are so much “bigger” makes me want to jump in and take over again.
A few years ago, I wrote about intervening when my son was really ill in a foreign country. We laugh about it now, but at the time (while he was telling me to back off) I was already contacting the American Embassy. I still stand by that decision. It was right to intervene when I did and my son is very grateful now that I did.
This week, I received another such call from my son (who has contributed greatly to all the silver hairs on my head). He started off by saying, “It’s taken me a few days to call you because I didn’t want you to freak out.” Uh-huh. That’s every mom’s idea of the perfect phone call starter.
My son is a sky diver (another reason for the gray hair). He and three other guys were doing an advanced jump together and one of them had trouble with both his main chute and his reserve. He was killed instantly when he hit the ground.
In all the time I mothered him, I had done nothing to prepare my son for an event like this. How could I? And, once again, I really wanted to take over. I wanted to jump on a plane and fly across the United States to where my son lives and hold him like I had when he was little. I wanted to hug the pain away. I wanted to give him advice that would somehow make him feel better. And, I wanted to clear his path and stop the world for a while so he could grieve and catch his breath.
That was probably another reason he waited for a few days to call me. He needed to deal with this in his own way without my interference. And, somehow he knew the right things to do. He knew to gather with the other two survivors so they could share their grief. He knew to call and check in with the one carrying the most guilt to make sure he was all right. He knew to dress with respect and go to the funeral to support the family no matter how much pain it caused him to do so.
I have to say that it feels weird to know he didn’t need my help. But, I am so proud of him and all the decisions he’s made on his own.
And, it turns out that another mother stepped in and cared for my son when I couldn’t be there. At the funeral, the deceased man’s mom spoke to my son. She told him how happy she was that he was there and how much joy her son got from skydiving. She made sure to invite Paul to the jump that would spread her son’s ashes in the sky. She had suffered the worst loss a mom can face, but she mothered my hurting son for a little while anyway. And, I’m so grateful she did.
Because, that’s the thing about moms. We are never “done”. No matter how old our kids get, we will never lose that need to nurture, love and protect.
And, personally, I think that’s a beautiful thing.
