Worth It

by Patti

I had a rough day in the land of motherhood.

S had been driving me to the brink all day; it was a non-stop fun fest of stomping, whining, eye rolling, ignoring, door slamming….PLEASE GOD JUST MAKE IT STOP.

I felt a little panicky, wondering if I had prematurely reached that scary point that you hear the parents of teens talk about - that moment where you lose all control. Gone was that sweet, pliable baby that looked to me for everything; she was now looking away from me, and rolling her eyes in the process. I pictured myself running out of the house screaming, all crazy and disheveled, and hopping into my car to speed to anywhere-but-here at demon-like speeds. But I stayed. Because today was grocery day and if I was going to abandon my family, the least I could do was leave them with some food in the fridge.

At the store, just as she has been doing since she was little, S climbed onto the front ledge of the grocery cart and settled herself between the handle and me. She leaned back against me, allowing my arms to form a circle around her, and we wove through the grocery store like that, throwing things into the car and chatting. Every once in a while, I couldn’t help but bend my lips to the top of her golden head to kiss it and breathe in her scent.

Wait – wasn’t I ready to donate her to science only an hour ago?

Motherhood is a pendulum that swings wildly to the left, where there is Joy! Joy! Joy! Then it will swing wildly to the right, where there is sorrow and anger and resentment. And then sometimes it just freezes mid-air, leaving us feeling numb and over it. And just when you think you can’t take another moment, your kid does something as simple as look your way, her hair falling just so over one eye, and that pendulum kicks right back into action, swinging towards that joy again. Until the next time the kid whines you straight into signing the adoption papers.

It is no wonder there are some nights I crawl into bed so emotionally exhausted I can’t see straight. But then, sometimes in the middle of the night, I get up for no apparent reason. I just get… a feeling. And that is when I go into S’s bedroom and find myself looking at her while she sleeps. She no longer looks like a baby or even a little girl; she has all the sharp angles of a kid who is growing right the hell up. Yet, sometimes while I am watching her, she will lightly smack her mouth – just as she did when she was a baby dreaming of milk – or subtly clench her hand into a fist, and I see how vulnerable she is. At that moment, all the whining, the eye rolling, the stomping, the slamming… it all just falls away, and all I see is her: My little girl. The person I made; the person she will one day be. And it’s worth it.