As I soared at 30,000 feet, the pressing need for rest became clear. The past two weeks had felt particularly challenging, but in truth, the last two years have been a whirlwind. With countless school functions, meetings with wedding vendors, tutoring sessions, therapy appointments, and swim practices, I found myself exhausted. The sensation of being overwhelmed had been building for quite some time.
Then came the moment that truly defined what “tired” meant.
I sat attentively as the physician detailed the tumors found in my mother’s right lung. After discussing the appointment with my siblings, I conducted my own research, discovering that there might be hope. Yet, despite my typical resilience, I found myself in tears. I am not one to weep easily; I prefer to take action. While others might lament their misfortunes, I pride myself on tackling challenges head-on.
I consider myself an experienced “research mom,” having navigated infertility treatments, adoption processes, speech therapy, and fundraising—nothing has escaped my analytical eye. Just as I was preparing to confront my mother’s battle against cancer, I was faced with another set of doctors who informed us that our son has more than just “quirks.” “It’s autism,” they said.
Determined to learn everything there is to know, I envisioned filling in the gaps around social cues and sensory processing issues. I dreamed of a future where he would thrive, perhaps even working for NASA. Yet, the grand visions were clouded by one significant hurdle: fatigue. The assessments, meetings, late-night research, and emotional discussions had taken their toll. I longed for the comfort of my mother.
As I flew over the expansive landscape of Utah, it struck me that I needed to nurture myself for a change. Perhaps being away from my responsibilities allowed me to refocus my energy inward. Though it felt uncomfortable, I finally allowed myself to rest, lulled by the hum of the airplane. Without the distractions of the internet, I found solace in simply being.
Upon awakening near Dallas, my thoughts turned to my family. The children were at school. My daughter, Chloe, had a report due soon, and I had forgotten to assist my son, Jake, with his note cards for a presentation about our family tree. His handwriting often resembled an undecipherable code. I made a mental note to reach out to my husband, Mark, for help with the last few cards.
I often reflect that part of our role as parents is to prepare our children for independence, yet I struggle with the idea of becoming obsolete. The thought of being replaced by their peers or spouses is daunting. I want to remain an integral part of their lives. Time is fleeting, and the realization that Chloe is growing up is sobering. In just a few years, she will be in college.
At 42, I realize my mother’s role in my life is irreplaceable, a truth that resonates deeply during challenging moments. When my family contracted H1N1, I yearned for my mother’s presence, even as she remained a half hour away. The need for our mothers doesn’t vanish with adulthood.
I reflect on my mother as I navigate this uncertain path with her. Was it right to leave during such a crucial time? Yet deep down, I recognize the necessity of recharging my own spirit for what lies ahead.
I also think about my son. While a diagnosis may shift his trajectory, it does not define him. I still envision a future where he achieves great things, and I am determined to hold onto those dreams.
This trip, I remind myself, is fortuitously timed. Life often demands we adapt, and rarely does it align with our expectations. As I sit in this moment, I realize I can’t prepare for every eventuality or curveball life throws my way. All this adjustment requires energy, and sometimes, the best response is to simply surrender and allow myself to rest.
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In summary, this journey of motherhood is filled with unexpected challenges and moments of self-discovery. Embracing change and taking time for self-care are essential as we navigate the complexities of parenting and personal growth.