It’s been a bit of an ordinary week in that I know two mothers having a really shit time right now. Really confronting stuff and each are hurting for different reasons. One of whom I’ve been friends with forever and a day, a school friend so I’m talking 30 years of history. Another I don’t know so well but I’ve known for a long time because I grew up with some of her siblings, I don’t know her husband or children but she’s a talented writer and great blogger and I’ve reconnected with her through this blogging stuff. A truly heart breaking custody battle for one and a sad and scary time for a little boy who is sick in intensive care. No names and no details for no other reason that their stories aren’t my stories but here is what I know. Both of these mothers have been fighting hard. The love they have for their children will overcome anything. I’m sure they are stronger than their fears. It is fierce and absolute and I’m only looking in from the outside.
And so this week I have been thinking of them both a lot.
In the same week the news has been reporting the attempted kidnapping of two children. You know the story, Lebanon, an international custody battle and a television network. Do I know the whole story? No. Does anyone? Doubtful. But I tell you what I do know and that is if my son was taken from his home country, not returned as agreed and I wasn’t able to see him for more than 12 months (and that we know to be true) then would I enlist the help of a current affairs program to bring him back to me? Of course I would. I’m super fucking sure I would. Of course there is a lot of judgement about the TV network and its involvement. Sensationalism. Ratings. None of their business. Money hungry. But what if it isn’t any of those things? What if there was a story that needed telling? What if the journalists and the TV crew were there because they genuinely believed that they needed to ask questions and to expose something that needed exposing? What if they were simply trying to tell the truth?
Mothers fighting for their children.
Motherhood is a gift. In my case it’s also a bloody miracle. It’s also hard. It’s ripping your heart out and holding it in your hand. It feels like a bucket full of watery emotion that you are have to hold above your head and try not to spill. It can be lovely and gentle but the moment it is at risk is the moment you turn warrior. I’m talking Xena Warrior Princess like. Nothing can possibly get in the way of the love you have for your child. I’m talking about myself, I’m talking about my two friends. I’m talking about the mother in Lebanon.
When I was going through IVF I use to stay up late and watch the show Parenthood. The theme song “When we were young” would make me feel a surge of sadness and even more so if I had a recent failed IVF attempt. I use to listen to the words “I can’t believe you’re mine” and ever wonder if I would know what it would be like to say those words and to feel what they mean. I look at Charlie and think “I can’t believe you’re mine.” I do this every. single. day. I go into his room every night, before I go to bed, I listen to him breathe, I put my hand on him and I think “I can’t believe you’re mine.” He has shaken and stirred my life like nothing else and we are forever linked together like a daisy chain. What would I do if he was sick? What would I do if I couldn’t see him? I would go into battle and my love for him would kick ass. Most of the time I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and like most I’m making shit up as I go along but what I do know is that my job is to protect him. I won’t always succeed at this of course but I will always fight for him with every shred of my being.
I’m proud of my friends. They are strong and brave, vulnerable and tired but by God they are warriors. They are kicking ass.