Solo Mother

A mother worries, you know

by christina on February 17th, 2008

I have a pretty morbid imagination if I let it run wild. I think we all do, but we keep our fears under lock and key and padlock and vault and buried chambers deep in the underground of our psyche. Otherwise, we would none of us leave our house. Ever. For fear of being hit by a bus or falling down a manhole or any manner of random, uncontrollable accident…

We have this huge leap of faith that basically, we have a right to live, and we’re going to do it. It’s absurd when examined too closely. Life is random, haphazard, the greatest miracle of them all. No one has a ‘right’ to live, beyond what the philosophers and social workers try to convince us.

Which is why I have to make a confession…

Sometimes, I am utterly terrified that I’ll outlive my child. Sometimes, the shields and buffers and fairytales and charms and magical potions and prayers just stop whirling around my brain, stop making my thoughts safe for prime time… and I wonder what on earth I would ever do without my King of Everything. It’s a convoluted mess of a fear, as all true fears are, wrapped as it is in the thought that he’s my only child, he’s the only child I’ll ever birth, the only child who is ever going to be mine. The ex has another kid. Friends of mine are expecting their third this summer. I have only this one little amazing sprite of a boy standing between me and the abyss. I know, ‘extra’ kids are no insurance against the total devastation of losing one, but do the math. 1 - 1 = 0, and 3 - 1 = 2… two little kids left to love.

Nothing is going to happen to my son. Statistically, nothing will. He’ll grow old, and be a great grandfather, and I’ll be happily dusting some field, or the ash in some incredible glaze. But this is the thing of it… we live in an environment saturated with fear. The media force-feeds it to us every day: RAPE! MURDER! BETRAYAL! FILM AT 11! and we eat it up. Tornadoes. Tragedy. The bird flu. Abduction. We don’t let our kids play outside anymore for fear that Something Might Happen. Isn’t it pathetic? We’re held captive by the ratings, trembling behind our locked doors because random acts of violence are shown ad nauseum, ad infinitum, on the television screens until we can’t think of anything else. Images of war. Images of violence. Who are the heroes of our age? When did we become a society of fear and hate? How did this happen? When did the bad guys win?

I long to let my child run free. I’m sad that those days are lost. I hope that we each try to raise our children with old-fashioned values, with strong moral compasses, with free-thinking minds that can see behind the curtain and unmask the Wizards who pull our strings and keep us cowed and afraid. When did being honorable become a sign of weakness? When did it become business as usual to take advantage, to be entirely unconcerned for the well-being of our fellow man?

I have faith. My child will help turn this world around. I’m trying to teach him how. He’s going to measure up.

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POSTED IN: activism