Taken Care Of
I was at the park today with my kids. There were a ton of kids there playing, running, and just, being kids. I was feeling happy to be there, enjoying the summer sun and breeze. I was admiring the sounds of happy kids and mom's talking.
A mom met her friend there and shortly after, had to get up to get something from her car. She handed her friend her baby, who was probably eight or nine months old? And as the mother walked away the baby became incredibly upset. Screaming, kicking, holding his arms out. The mom came right back and hugged her baby and the crying stopped. The baby held onto his momma so tight. She was mildly annoyed, as all of us moms are when we just want to do one little thing.
It was a very normal moment. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Just a mom, and her baby at the park. Just a mom whose baby became upset because she was leaving. Just a mom who asked her friend to hold her baby for a few minutes. Just a mom whose baby stopped crying once she was holding him again.
But this moment haunted me. Nothing bad happened. But, in that moment, I had to stop myself from crying.
Because the visual of that baby, reaching and screaming for his mom, made me think of all those babies and kids, taken, and separated, from their parents.
Lately, I can't seem to hear a child that is upset, and not think of what is happening.
I know, it is not my babies and children taken away at the boarder, but, it is someones kids.
Someones babies. Someones everything.
I know it is not my pain to have, but it is a mother's pain.
A mother's pain. A mother's heartbreak.
Yes, I am not the mother of those kids and babies taken away at the boarder, but, I am a mother.
And once you become a mother, you change. At least, once I became a mother, I changed.
My heart changed. My emotional intelligence changed. My empathy changed.
And suddenly, one mothers pain, is a pain I feel, too.
In that little moment at the park today, I kept thinking of an Instagram I follow. This mom was talking of being up at all hours of the previous night taking care of her kids and made mention of how babies and children at the boarder, most definitely needing the same care, are not getting it. And she said these words that I keep thinking, almost daily, when my own littles are in need, or when I see a baby crying for his mother at the park: "Taken Care of is very different than, Being cared for"
"Being cared for" is so minimal. It's basic. And caring for a child, is anything but basic.
"Taken care of" is full, it is detailed, and all consuming, and exhausting, and requires one giving all of ones self. For me, this is a non issue, because, I want to do it. I want to because I am their mother, and it is my child and there is nothing I would not do for my child.
"Taken care of" is me, for the most part being a vegetarian, stifling my dry heaves as I hand rolled ground beef into meatballs because my kids wanted them for dinner. It is pulling a booger out of my son's nose with my cashmere sweater when we didn't have a tissue, it is me giving my daughter my granola bar when we were stuck in traffic, miles from home, with my blood sugar at corpse levels.
"Taken care of" is me not being able to sleep when they have fevers. It is me worried when they go to a play date or school without me having said a proper goodbye or given them kisses. 'Taken care of" is me obsessively checking West Side Rentals when there's an increase of police activity in our neighborhood because I worry about needing to move somewhere safer.
"Taken care of" is the commitment of moving Heaven and earth and the alignment of the planets too, if needed.
'Taken care of" is doing anything, what ever it is, anything for my kids.
"Taken care of" is no matter how scared, how unsure; if it's for a better life for my kids, I'd get on the boat, I'd try to cross that boarder.
This is a universal feeling for all mothers.
There is nothing a mother would not do for her child.
And knowing the love I feel for my own kids, how deep it is, how it has turned me into a pile of mush, how my love makes me bonkers, is what makes this whole mess that much more painful to hear about.
I am very empathetic. Probably too much. And maybe I am projecting and that is why this whole situation is upsetting me so much. Maybe I am imagining how I would shatter into pieces if my kids were taken from me.
Or maybe I am just a decent human being that understands the bond between a mother and her child.
A mom met her friend there and shortly after, had to get up to get something from her car. She handed her friend her baby, who was probably eight or nine months old? And as the mother walked away the baby became incredibly upset. Screaming, kicking, holding his arms out. The mom came right back and hugged her baby and the crying stopped. The baby held onto his momma so tight. She was mildly annoyed, as all of us moms are when we just want to do one little thing.
It was a very normal moment. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Just a mom, and her baby at the park. Just a mom whose baby became upset because she was leaving. Just a mom who asked her friend to hold her baby for a few minutes. Just a mom whose baby stopped crying once she was holding him again.
But this moment haunted me. Nothing bad happened. But, in that moment, I had to stop myself from crying.
Because the visual of that baby, reaching and screaming for his mom, made me think of all those babies and kids, taken, and separated, from their parents.
Lately, I can't seem to hear a child that is upset, and not think of what is happening.
I know, it is not my babies and children taken away at the boarder, but, it is someones kids.
Someones babies. Someones everything.
I know it is not my pain to have, but it is a mother's pain.
A mother's pain. A mother's heartbreak.
Yes, I am not the mother of those kids and babies taken away at the boarder, but, I am a mother.
And once you become a mother, you change. At least, once I became a mother, I changed.
My heart changed. My emotional intelligence changed. My empathy changed.
And suddenly, one mothers pain, is a pain I feel, too.
In that little moment at the park today, I kept thinking of an Instagram I follow. This mom was talking of being up at all hours of the previous night taking care of her kids and made mention of how babies and children at the boarder, most definitely needing the same care, are not getting it. And she said these words that I keep thinking, almost daily, when my own littles are in need, or when I see a baby crying for his mother at the park: "Taken Care of is very different than, Being cared for"
"Being cared for" is so minimal. It's basic. And caring for a child, is anything but basic.
"Taken care of" is full, it is detailed, and all consuming, and exhausting, and requires one giving all of ones self. For me, this is a non issue, because, I want to do it. I want to because I am their mother, and it is my child and there is nothing I would not do for my child.
"Taken care of" is me, for the most part being a vegetarian, stifling my dry heaves as I hand rolled ground beef into meatballs because my kids wanted them for dinner. It is pulling a booger out of my son's nose with my cashmere sweater when we didn't have a tissue, it is me giving my daughter my granola bar when we were stuck in traffic, miles from home, with my blood sugar at corpse levels.
"Taken care of" is me not being able to sleep when they have fevers. It is me worried when they go to a play date or school without me having said a proper goodbye or given them kisses. 'Taken care of" is me obsessively checking West Side Rentals when there's an increase of police activity in our neighborhood because I worry about needing to move somewhere safer.
"Taken care of" is the commitment of moving Heaven and earth and the alignment of the planets too, if needed.
'Taken care of" is doing anything, what ever it is, anything for my kids.
"Taken care of" is no matter how scared, how unsure; if it's for a better life for my kids, I'd get on the boat, I'd try to cross that boarder.
This is a universal feeling for all mothers.
And knowing the love I feel for my own kids, how deep it is, how it has turned me into a pile of mush, how my love makes me bonkers, is what makes this whole mess that much more painful to hear about.
I am very empathetic. Probably too much. And maybe I am projecting and that is why this whole situation is upsetting me so much. Maybe I am imagining how I would shatter into pieces if my kids were taken from me.
Or maybe I am just a decent human being that understands the bond between a mother and her child.
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