The Butterfly

Nearly eighteen years ago, I was holding a newborn baby in my arms, in total shock.  "Is this baby really mine?"  "What am I supposed to do?"  "I don't think I am qualified for this responsibility."  "What if I drop her?"  "What if I don't wake up when she cries, and she starves to death?"  "How do you dress this fragile little blob?" "She's so tiny, what if I break her?"

Luckily, my instincts kicked in, surprising me every day that I was actually capable of being a mother.  It was still daunting, though.  I was terrified every single day until she was about three years old, when I realized how resilient she was, and that she wasn't as breakable as she looked.

From the time she was three until she was about fourteen, I ignorantly believed I was the best mother on the planet.  By this time, I had brought in four more children into the world, and I pretty much felt confident that I knew what I was doing.  Mothering came naturally.  I loved rocking my babies, singing to them, reading to them, teaching them neat things like how to use a toilet, and the names of flowers and bugs.  I taught them to not talk to strangers at the same time teaching them to be tolerant and loving of everyone.  I helped them with school work.  I taught them to do their best.  Their successes became my own.  I truly felt that since they were so special and wonderful, that it must be because of ME.  Boy, did I have a lot to learn.  'Cause when you get on an ego trip like that, the universe typically gives you a lesson in humility.

My lesson came wrapped up in a beautiful teenager.  Let me tell you new mothers out there: be ware of this package.  Once you open this package, you will doubt everything you feel successful about as a mother.  This package comes with several challenging lessons.  It will test your ability to love unconditionally.  Isn't that horrible?  When you look at your child, you think you will always love them unconditionally, but that faith must be tested.  Because being critical, judgmental, non- understanding, and intolerant are not examples of unconditional love.  And I am sad to say that I became all of those things as a mother of a teenager.

The love affair you have with your child changes when they start to pull away from you.  And that's a teenager's job.  Their job is to emerge from your protective cocoon and begin stretching their wings.  It is a painful process.  All I wanted to do was to keep my baby in the cocoon, and all she wanted to do was to break away from it.  It was tough.  It made me sad.  Every mistake she made, I felt the need to correct.  Every time she had a new opinion about the world, I judged it.  Every time she wanted to try out her independence, I was not as understanding as I should have been.  Every time she had new feelings about herself, I became intolerant.  I invalidated her feelings constantly.  I couldn't help it.  It all blindsided me.  I thought I was going to be a cool mom to a teenager, but I wasn't.  At least not consistently.  Don't get me wrong, I had a few good moments in the mix, but overall, if I had a do over button, I would have put duct tape over my mouth more often.  I would have told her I was proud of her more often too.  

Thank God she really is resilient.  Because I look at her now, just a few weeks from graduating from high school, and I see a beautiful, loving, hard working, deeply spiritual young lady.  I see a young lady who is compassionate, loyal, smart, and kind.  And she became all these things on her own.  Certainly not because of me.  I am just really, really grateful I got a front seat to watch her emerge from the cocoon, because it is absolutely awesome watching those fragile, wet wings stretch into something strong enough to carry her as she flies away to new places. 

 Jolie Suzanne, you are a beautiful butterfly, and I am honored to be your mother.