Moms of ill children form a unique bond. We automatically and instinctively watch each others' children. We run loads of laundry for another family. We tuck special snacks away for the tired Mama who wanders in from visiting her child long after dinner time.
Many of my memories of this time center on the living room of the Ronald McDonald House. We would fill the floor with soft, clean, fuzzy blankets, lie our babies on the blankets, and chat and cry and commiserate for many hours.
I became very close with one mother in particular. We both had our first baby in our 30's. Her son and my daughter were weeks apart in age. We spent a great deal of time holding each other's babies and sharing stories of what we were like "before child" and what we feared and hoped for our future and our baby's future.
Then, poof, one day--- my friend stepped back. She didn't want to push strollers around the halls or pull babies in wagons. She wasn't available for a cup of late night coffee or to fold laundry side-by-side. I was a bit hurt and very curious. Had I done something wrong? Had I offended her?
Finally, after a long week, she came to me and sat nearby. For awhile, she said nothing. I was quiet, offering an occasional smile. I waited.
"I can't be your friend", she finally said. I paused. Tears sprang to my eyes. What had I done? As if she had read my mind, I heard her answer, "Your baby will live. Mine will not. Right now, I can't handle that. I cannot see you holding Madi and realize she will be here in a few years and my son won't. It is too hard."
I had no words then. What could I say? I knew she was speaking the truth. I could not imagine being her. In my heart, I felt her pain. I hugged her, smiled, and said, "I understand"... because... I did.
That was the day that I learned my Mommy Mantra: I have nothing to complain about because I get to take my child home. This mantra got me through years of surgeries and traveling to distant hospitals for procedures. It helped me when my child cried in pain and I could not fix it. It kept me sane during a difficult divorce and the unexpected death of my beloved mother.
I GOT TO TAKE MY BABY HOME.
I think of that friend I made almost 20 years ago often. I know she was right. Her son did die. My daughter did live. She taught me a great and heart breaking lesson.
As we near another Mother's Day and you celebrate, remember those missing their children. Remember the Mother's who ARE Mothers... even if their child has passed away.
Don't pretend to understand their pain. That is an injustice to the cross they bear. Just understand this- there are limits to friendship. Those limits should always be set by the one who has to endure the most. Look hard at their journey and respect them. Look harder at your journey, and be thankful.
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