The Open Wound

A dear friend of mine told me more than once while we were raising our children that being a parent is like being an open wound.  Her words have rung true countless times over the years.

I did get wounded in a way when I gave birth.  The love I felt for these little humans was so immense it ‘hurt’.  I would do anything and everything to protect these little beings and this feeling has since never left me.  My wound scabs over every once and again and I feel a healthy detachment as my offspring gain their independence in increments.

With each stage of development the wound remains tender and vulnerable to injury.  When they got their first cold, when they scraped their knees, when they fight with a friend, when they fight with me, when they feel frightened or insecure, when their heart gets broken, when they feel lost, when they struggle at navigating life it hurts- it opens the wound- the place they occupy in my heart remains forever fragile and their pain hurts me almost as much as it hurts them- often more…

This wound, this wonderful wound that never heals completely is a reminder that I am a mother and that I ooze (like that?) with love and adoration for the people I made.  I will likely continue to hurt when they hurt.  I’ve come to realize that life offers no band-aid for this wound.  It is part of my rite of passage as a parent.  The opposite is also true however.  When my children feel joy, I feel it too.  When they are happy and confident, I feel the light and warmth of that twofold.  I’m so at peace when they are at peace.  I am grateful for it all…the good and the bad…

Its ok…I can take it….being a parent is not for the weak!


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