Exposed Heart.

Being a mom. Three little words requiring such a large amount of responsibility. I as of late find myself wondering if I really have what it takes. I question on a daily basis whether or not I am making the right choices, instilling the right information, being the best I can be. I propose this is not an unfamiliar reflex of most Mothers, and not to be excluded Fathers out there. Knowing what is best seems an insurmountable obstacle. What am I talking about you might be wondering? I am talking about knowing whether or not the quarks and idiosyncrasies of my daughter are just that, or something more. She’s incredibly intelligent, exceedingly articulate, sociable in most instances, feisty, rambunctious, imaginative beyond compare, funny, fidgety, twitchy, and both in love, and apprehensive of sounds-  the last 3 traits of which are my concern.

Since Lailah was quite small she has had small twitches in her arms and legs, particularly when lying down, sleeping, trying to relax, etc.; nothing extensive or out of control, but noticeable. I’ve always thought to myself that it seemed a bit off, but have always chocked it up to just being something she will grow out of. After all, her body is doing unbelievable amounts of work at lightning speed pace; it’s only probable that one should experience such little oddities from time to time. She’s also a lover and a hater of sound. A sound might not affect her one day, and might cause her to cower, freeze and put her hands over her ears the next day - each new day bringing with it the uncertainty of response.

With these little traits the guilt card starts to rear its ugly head – I wasn’t able to Breastfeed – I was physically unable too, I tried everything I could and I just didn’t produce (thanks boobs). During my pregnancy I didn’t exercise – I slept a lot (not always on my left side, tisk tisk), and I ate one hotdog and on TWO occasions I ate sprouts (both on the Do Not Eat list for knocked up chicks). And, before I knew I was pregnant I had consumed one Alcoholic beverage, gasp. Could my inability to provide nourishment that didn’t come out of a can have something to do with the aforementioned? Could my uncontrollable hunger to consume a Hot Dog and on TWO occasions Sprouts on my veggie sandwich be the culprit? And that Alcoholic beverage consumed on a small private island underneath the scorching sun somewhere along the Caribbean – could THAT be the reason for such quarks? No, I think not, but I’d be lying if I said that these few ridiculous things haven’t made their way into my mind.

 I forecast I will forever be questioning my choices as a Mother. I will no time soon know whether or not, my choices, my teachings, my advice will aim to help or hinder my daughter’s progression through life. We are the sum of all parts; ultimately her life will be molded only in small portion by the things I offer.  But I am responsible for keeping a keen eye on her and ensuring that if there are traits that may have a name assigned to them, albeit, Sensory Processing issues or the like, that they are treated so as to not contravene her ability to be the person she will ultimately end up becoming. But, my most recent guilt is talking about these things and the possibility of a ‘this or that’ in front of her. She is such a keen listener, even when she acts like she is not listening, she hears everything, and I know that she has heard me talking about the possibilities of putting a label on her traits. And maybe that’s all they are, traits, only time will tell. I don’t want to possibly imprint on her a name to something that otherwise might be nameless. So, I will quietly research and discuss my concerns with her pediatrician when I feel it appropriate, but for now, I will watch, enjoy, bask, and love her perfections with an exposed heart.

I love her more than the pelican loves the herring, the lizard loves the brightest star, the crocus loves emergence from the snow. I love her more than my words could ever convey. And with any and all of her imperfections, she will still be perfectly perfect, to me.