Several months ago when we were visiting family, a very thoughtful gentleman suggested that I write a book about mothering. I kind of laughed and told him that I posted on a blog page at times, but that was about as close as I figured I'd get. While I was flattered, I'm not sure I'd ever consider myself enough of an "expert" to really feel like I oughta be telling someone else "how-to".
That being said, being a Mommy by nature makes me a helper. Or maybe it's because it's in my nature to want to be a helper that I became a Mommy. I'm not sure I could really untangle the one idea from another. In the end it doesn't really matter. Trying to help seems to be a part of who I am, whether I can really help or not. It manifests itself in many ways.
This past week, my youngest has been sick. Beyond sick ... he's been the kind of sick that begins to spook you, where you end up calling the doctor every time you turn around. We finally got him diagnosed over the weekend ... apparently his cold morphed into a double ear infection and developing pneumonia. I'm not sure I've ever been that spooked when it comes to my kids. I spent a day and a half before we got in to see the doctor feeling totally helpless, because there wasn't anything I could DO to try and help. It's an awful feeling ... I was literally on the verge of tears for 36-48 hours. Now, with large doses of antibiotics, he's beginning to improve, and I'm finally beginning to relax again. Somehow, that kind of helping (or trying to help) seems natural when it comes to mothering.This afternoon, though, I found myself trying to help in other ways ... ways that weren't specifically related to my own family, beyond sharing my experiences.
I'm acquainted with a young mother who is only half my age. Her first child is about six months old, and while I was wandering around on a popular social media page I tripped across a post she had made that gave me the distinct impression that she was frustrated and discouraged. There were things that she was wanting to do, and trying to do, but for one reason or another they weren't working and it left her feeling like she was missing out. So I sent her a brief message that said, in essence, "If you want to talk to someone, let me know." She did.
I spent a while talking back and forth with her, and wondered if I was really helping. Perhaps I was. Perhaps I was only telling her things that she already knew. I guess the point of my reaching out to her was that I knew that when you are a new mother, even if you already "know" something, it helps to have some encouragement and reinforcement of those ideas ... someone to tell you that, no, you're not crazy for thinking what you're thinking, and no, you shouldn't feel guilty in this or that situation. Sometimes it just helps to know that someone has been through it before, and guess what ... it'll probably turn out just fine, even if it doesn't feel that way right this minute. Truth be told, sometimes even more "experienced" mothers feel that way (i.e. the sick child illustration above). I don't really have any way of knowing, since we weren't actually TALKING but doing it all by computer, whether I helped at all or not. I hope I did. And I hope that if she needs someone to talk to again she'll remember me. Because whether it's yours or someone else's ... a mother wants to be, if nothing else, a helper to those who need her.
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