Motherhood

Motherhood-to nurture, to carry another human being in one's womb. To care for this human being-- nourishing, protecting, loving it until the 38th-40th week.  To endure labor pains and operation scars. Finally to see and be awed at the beauty made life in that one single, magnificent cry.  But this is merely the beginning. The true meaning of motherhood goes far beyond childbearing and childbirth.  Labor pains and operation scars translate to heartache as our children endure pains of their own--down from the simplest discomfort to the worst of physical and emotional maladies. And we say to them, "if only I can bear your pain so you won't have to feel any, I will."

     Garret's permanent tooth showed up just last week. And his milk tooth is showing no signs of falling out either. What with his eating habits of no sugar and no candies, thank you very much, his milk tooth is as hard and calcified as a permanent tooth. As you can imagine, this can only mean one thing--tooth extraction. Teeth, to be exact, the dentist informed us yesterday she is going to have to extract two milk teeth. As I am writing this, a knot is forming in my insides. Garret will have to be wrapped in a blanket like a burrito to prevent him from moving as the dentist injects the anesthesia. The imagery of it is driving me nuts. I ask myself and God, " Is there any other easier way for my child?" Of course, there are no easy answers. Ah, the pains of motherhood. If I could, I would take his place, be wrapped in a burrito and be injected with the anesthesia a hundred times over just so he would feel no pain.

       Our instinct to protect our children from any harm is primal, necessary, elemental-- for our own peace of mind, that they may be able to live free of danger,  worry, hurts and that they may live a long, long life. But just as life is, as much as our choices determine our fate, in the end, a higher power determines our destiny. And yes, when it comes to protecting our children, we have no absolute control whatsoever.  As this sentiment may be common among all mothers, I think this is all the more intensified and pronounced among autism mothers. The environment that may be ordinary for normal kids may be too much for our kids, and they go into a sensory overdrive. And so we control their activities, choosing only places or activities that their systems can tolerate and to some level activities that they can actually enjoy. We try to shield them from prying, prejudiced and ignorant stares of people in the community so most of the time, their playground is only at home and in school. We cannot, for one minute, let them out of our sight for fear that they may injure themselves, or that they may run across the street and be hit by a car, or be taken by strangers.  We do everything to protect them. Autism mothers are on alert,  hyper-drive, every single time.

          And so, when a simple natural bodily phenomena occurs, like a tooth falling off or coming out, which humans have absolutely no control over, this autism mom cries out, “help!”, frantic ,not like a crazed woman, but more like a duck calm on the surface but paddling furiously hard underneath. When these things happen, when nature calls the shots, of course, humans are helpless. And I have another lesson again to learn-- I have to learn to let go. The workings of the universe are inevitable, unstoppable. No use fighting it. Besides, a procedure as excruciating as a tooth extraction has its own hidden blessings. As to what? I certainly do not know yet. Maybe I will know in a few days, in 3 days to be exact. Maybe, I will realize that Garret is the bravest boy yet? Braver than his frantic mother. And that I should have had nothing to worry about.

           On a larger context, letting go is such a strong and difficult thing to do, for all mothers- autism or not. Whether it is about our children choosing the career path they wish to take-- to be a nurse, to go abroad, to be an artist, to be anybody they want to be, or whether it is choosing a partner to spend life with for the rest of their lives-- rich, well-off, self-made, Filipino, Chinese, Caucasian, the greatest fear for all mothers is that their children will be hurt, they will be damaged and they won't recover. And this fear is the very reason why mothers become overly protective of their children to the point of stifling their spirit.  I don’t claim to be an expert on parenting, much less on motherhood per se, but this I do know—as we claim to love our children the best that we can, we have to trust in the workings of the universe that all our efforts to rear our children will not go unnoticed, and therefore we have to trust our children that they will make the right choices and they will be alright, no matter what. They may endure hardships, but that is the only way we can truly live.  But then again, what do I know? I don’t know if Garret will ever get to go to college, or marry. So maybe I don’t have the right to say these things—trusting, letting go.  One fact remains though, my own mother loved me (still does, of course) the best way she knows how—rooting me to the ground with values and allowing me to spread my wings—make my own choices and yes…fly—letting me live and be accountable for my own choices. Perhaps this is why God has given me Garret and Morgan. Not because I am strong, but because my own mom did not let her fear overpower her, but she let go when the time was right and she let God do the rest. The kind of love she has given me made me the strong woman to raise two special boys.

            Come Tuesday, I will tell myself, “ Garret is going to be alright. Everything’s going to be just fine. It’s not  like he's deciding to become a doctor or whether he will marry royalty or not…not just yet anyway (wink, wink, wishful thinking). It is just a tooth extraction after all.” Nature is doing its work. So I should be learning my lesson too—to just let go, just as the universe wants me to.