Kacen’s scream was loud and jagged. I put my nail clippers down and slipped into my robe as I headed down the dark hallway. When I got to their room Kacen rolled over apparently deep in sleep. However, Andie was awakened by his cry. I picked her up and began swaying her gently, hushing her whimpers as she rested her head on my shoulder.
Holding her there, I thought how badly I wanted to protect them. How I never wanted a cry of horror, desperation or resignation escape their lips. I bowed my head and pleaded with God to protect them, to not let anything bad happen to them, though I know I plead in vain. Sobs began to rack my body. Andie sighed and wiggled to adjust herself to be cradled in my arms.
I thought of the cries of mothers who learn of horrible things done to their children of all ages. I think “how will I ever cope with it, if they come to me as victims of abuse in any form?” How can a mother bare to see the people she loves more than anything, people who are in fact an appendage of herself, an extension of her body and blood, be pummeled by the evil in this world? It seems unbearable. In that moment I stood there wrapping Andie in my arms of protection, holding so tightly trying to cram a lifetime of protection into one embrace.
I never dreamed of a love so deep that would make my insides hurt; that my life and my thoughts would almost daily be consumed with a desire to protect my children.
This isn’t just something I do, or something that happened to me, being a mother. It is who I am. My heart strings are made from their joys and sorrows, the blood that flows through my veins is an extension of their energy and exuberance. Every day the energy I muster to make it from sunrise to sunset is to serve them, to teach them, to love them. I feel blessed to have my heart changed, to now have the heart of a mother.