Graduation

Shortly after Jacob was born, I read an article in a parenting magazine about a woman's coming to terms with motherhood. She wrote in retrospect, and began at her child's infancy. It was such a well written article, detailing the disheartening disillusionment that I myself experienced upon Jacob's birth.

I always wanted children. Before he was born, I pictured myself with my children in a fairy tale setting. Yes, there were conflicts, but I was good at resolving them. I always knew the answer, the right way to approach things, and the best way to raise a happy and healthy child, while being fulfilled and happy myself. Like I said, that was before I had Jacob. I also didn't believe that it was important to have a father. To me, a good father was a bonus not a necessity. I've since changed my mind about that point as well.

Then along came Jacob. My marriage fell apart in the middle of my pregnancy and a few months later my long held, heavenly image of motherhood also shattered. My body was ruined. I was exhausted, sticky and smelled like milk 24 hours a day. My baby cried no matter what I did and, much to my surprise, I didn't know any of the answers, let alone all of them! My hormones were haywire and all I wanted to do was cry, but I felt like I couldn't tell anyone those thoughts because only a truly terrible mother would think such things.

It wasn't that I didn't want him or that I didn't love him, but rather that I was afraid that I had made a terrible mistake - that I would not be able to care for him the way he deserved. In many ways, I didn't even like the tasks I had to do, and I felt this tremendous guilt over not feeling that complete and total immediate blinding love everyone talks about. I felt personally cheated in some ways, but worse, I felt like I had cheated my son out of a good mother. So, on top of all the adjustments that any typical new mother has, I carried this baggage silently around for several weeks too. It wasn't until my aunt Linda said that she had experienced the same thing that I felt relief from the guilt of my emotions. Needless to say, disillusionment remained, but as those of us who are parents know, we adjust to the changes of becoming a mother and the joys of parenthood soon begin to outweigh those times of chaos, stress and duress.

The woman writing the article chronicled emotions I could relate to at that time - a colicky newborn, the disillusionment of a fairy tale motherhood and the lack of a perfect maternal instinct to always make the right choice, coupled by the frustrations of toddlerhood, potty training, etc. She then fast forwarded to the day that her little boy got on the bus to go to kindergarten. She looked at him in disbelief - at his size, his maturity, his self control and most of all with shock at how quickly the years disappeared. Wasn't it yesterday that she was fighting with him to get out of the toilet? Begging him to sleep through the night, not to eat rocks or stick his fingers in the outlets? Wasn't it yesterday that she rocked him to sleep, then sang an extra song just so she could feel the rhythm of his breath against her neck for a little while longer?

I still get emotional thinking about that article. Now, however, it's not because I am relating to the troubles of infancy, but rather because I am sharing in her 'wasn't it yesterday?' moment. Now my first born has moved beyond the terrible twos. He can bathe himself and get his own snacks. He can buckle his own seat belt. He can even read his own bed time stories sometimes too. Wasn't it yesterday that I could cradle him easily in one arm? Wasn't it yesterday that he pushed the kitchen chairs around 15 times a day just for fun? Wasn't it yesterday that we crawled into the construction equipment in the parking lot across the street and sat for hours while he pretended to drive? In fact, wasn't it yesterday that my mother almost got a real ticket for allowing Jacob to sit behind the wheel of her car and pretend to drive?

Five years later I see motherhood through clearer eyes. I understand now why mothers speak of a blinding unconditional love for their children and why women hold their positions as mothers higher than any other. It is true that parenthood is nothing that you expect it will be. You cannot prepare for it, no matter how many books you read or nieces and nephews you have. Nothing can prepare you for the highs and lows, the exhaustion, exasperation or the torment that you will inevitably experience at one time or another. Nor can you prepare for the love that you will feel for your child - a love that literally grows stronger every single minute. There is nothing more beautiful than the gift of simply spending time with and getting to know the person that you created; being a parent. This is the bond that fairy tales are made of.

Yesterday's kindergarten graduation is just one of many moments that make me proud to be Jacob's mother. He is not an extension of me; he is his own person, growing stronger and more independent each day. While part of me wants to yell, "Stop, please! Don't go any further. You are perfect where you are. Don't grow up. Don't leave me!" I know that is not possible, nor is it what I ultimately want for either of my children. Joan Baez sings a song called "Honest Lullaby," which has some of the following lyrics:

Now I look at you, you must be growing a quarter of an inch a day.
You've already lived near half the years you'll be when you go away....
And while the others play with you, I hope to find a way with you,
And sometimes spend a day with you, I'll catch you as you fly,
And if I'm worth a mother's salt, I'll wave as you go by."

I want my children to soar, with Greg and I and the rest of the family on the ground cheering them on. Kindergarten graduation is just a tiny step in that direction, but every step is important.


Now - onto the pictures - the part you really like, instead of my rambling!

Katelyn and Jacob were both having trouble with their tassels.

Jacob looking rather smug about his!

"Oh hi! Are you here for me?"

Jacob chose to shake Mrs. Cooney's hand. He was the only one. Everyone else gave her a hug. He had told me several days prior that he was going to "keep it professional."

Flipping their tassels

"Hey, Bob - do you think we are about done? I'd like to get a piece of that cake I saw on the table over there."

The boys of Harbor House

My dad and mom with Jake. He was crying at this point. We aren't sure why.

Greg's mom and dad

His diploma

The following morning in his cap and gown outside school.

With Mrs Olson and Mrs Cooney in the classroom

The graduating class

Thank you, Harbor House! You truly have been our guiding light over the last three years. We are blessed to have been a part of such a wonderful program.