My Little Cross

My mother always says that each child a woman has is a cross to bear: some children are easy-going and light to carry (like paper machier); others are difficult and get heavier with each passing year (like steel).  (Yes, it's all very maternal of her.)

Well, one day not too long ago, when I tried to get out of bed, the room persisted on spinning.  I eased myself back down and thanked God that it was the weekend.  Then it dawned on me that -- it being Saturday -- Brendan would have no school; which meant that I would have to deal with an energetic four-year-old the entire day with vertigo.  At that moment, I am ashamed to say that I resented the little guy.  I mean, if I didn't have him, I could lay in bed, get some rest and perhaps, just perhaps, that would be enough to chase away the dizziness.  No sooner had these thoughts passed my mind that I heard his little chipmunk voice from the bathroom, "Mommy, can you wipe my butt?"  Great start to a crappy day.

I finished wiping and headed back to bed.  "Mommy, may I have some juice?"  I gritted my teeth. A cross indeed.  I just wanted to lay down; anything to stop the infernal spinning.  Was that really so much to ask?  I felt angry; annoyed that this was my lot in life.  Now I'd have to navigate the stairs and try not to kill myself in the process of going down to make breakfast.

With breakfast duty completed, I dragged myself back up the stairs, climbed into bed and pulled the sheet up to my neck.  I fell into the kind of sleep that only mothers have -- you now, the kind where you're asleep, but can still hear everything going on around you.  In this altered state, I heard the "choo choo" of his toy train; he was trying to entertain himself as quietly as a four-year-old could.  In that moment, my heart flooded with so much love for my little man that I could barely stand it.

I got up and went to his room.  As soon as he saw me, he ran over and threw his arms around me.  Even after my shortness with him the whole day, he was still giving me unconditional love. I knelt down and he kissed my forehead. "There, that should make it all better, Mommy."  And it did.  Suddenly, I realized that he wasn't a cross I had to bear; he was a blessing that God had bestowed upon me.  In fact, he's the one carrying the cross of a tired, cranky, often stressed mother.  He didn't ask to be here -- I made the choice to have a child.

With that, I got Bren dressed and took him to the park.  Then we had ice cream.  And, what do you know?  Getting moving alleviated my vertigo.  Later in the evening, when he was bathed and ready for bed, I took him in my arms and gave him a huge hug.  Were it not for him, I probably would've lain in bed feeling sorry for myself and letting the vertigo take over. Sometimes, carrying a cross is the just the exercise one needs.