As I soar through the skies at 30,000 feet, it suddenly strikes me: I desperately need rest. It’s been a challenging couple of weeks, but to be honest, it’s been a tough two years. Between juggling school activities, meeting with vendors for a wedding, attending tutoring sessions, and navigating therapy appointments, I’m feeling utterly drained. That creeping sensation of being unable to add one more task to my plate has been building for a while now. And then life threw me a curveball that redefined tired.
I sat in the doctor’s office, absorbing the heavy news about the tumors in my mom’s lung. After discussing it with my siblings and doing some personal research, I had hoped for the best, yet the tears flowed. Typically, I’m not one to cry; I’m more of a doer. While others dwell on their misfortunes, I pride myself on tackling challenges head-on.
I’ve been the “research mom” long before motherhood graced my life. Whether it’s infertility treatments, adoption processes, or speech therapy, every aspect of my life has been scrutinized and analyzed to the nth degree. Just as I was gearing up to combat my mother’s cancer, I found myself in front of yet another set of doctors, who confirmed our son’s diagnosis of autism.
Determined to gather every piece of information, I envisioned filling in the gaps, ensuring he thrives. Ten years from now, when he’s coding for NASA, no one will even remember the diagnosis. But there’s one glaring issue hindering these ambitions: exhaustion. The assessments, meetings, sleepless nights filled with research, and emotional conversations have left me utterly spent. I want my mom.
As I flew above Utah, it dawned on me: I need to practice self-care and mother myself. It’s uncomfortable to focus inward, but as the plane’s gentle hum lulled me to sleep, I felt something unfamiliar—unplugged and at peace. I woke up near Dallas, my thoughts drifting to my family back home. The kids are in school, and I realized I had forgotten to help Ben with his family tree project. Mental note: reach out to Mike to assist with those note cards.
There I go again, slipping back into my role. We’re often told that our job as parents is to make ourselves obsolete, yet I struggle to release even the tiniest details. I don’t want to fade into the background! Being a mom brings a sense of significance I can’t shake. Perhaps we subconsciously create ways to ensure our importance, like teaching them to do laundry because, deep down, we fear being replaced by friends or future partners.
At 42, I still feel the irreplaceable bond with my own mother. I remember calling for her when our family fell ill, only to realize she was miles away. The truth is, being a mom doesn’t mean you stop needing your own mother.
As I embark on this daunting journey with my mom, I question how I could leave during such a crucial time. Yet, deep down, I recognize the necessity of recharging my spirit for what lies ahead. I think of my son, and while a diagnosis may shift his trajectory, it doesn’t alter who he is. I hold on tightly to my dreams of him soaring through the stars or innovating the next big thing at a tech giant.
This trip feels timely. Life constantly urges us to adapt; rarely does anyone look back and say, “This is exactly how I envisioned it.” Life’s unexpected twists keep us alert, reminding us that comfort is fleeting. Right now, I can’t prepare or research my way through the challenges ahead. Accepting this reality takes energy, and for once, I choose to surrender to change and simply sleep.
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Summary
In this reflective piece, the author navigates the complexities of motherhood amidst personal challenges, including her mother’s health crisis and her son’s autism diagnosis. Throughout the journey, she emphasizes the importance of self-care, the irreplaceable bond with her own mother, and the constant need to adapt to life’s unexpected changes.
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