“Sorry mommy” he said every time he threw up two nights ago.
And every time he said that, my heart splintered again.
I did not know, before my son was born, how resilient our hearts are. I thought my heart broken when my boyfriend broke up with me over a decade ago.
I did not know then, that a tiny human would crack it open again and again. Nor that it would heal, like Wolverine’s wounds, again and again.
Gratefully, right now I can comfort my boy. Wipe his face, change his clothes, press a cool cloth to his forehead. I can snuggle him and sleep close by.
Soon though, he will suffer hurts that I cannot wipe away. Hurts that last longer than the 24 hour bug and cut deeper. I Know this with trepidation and determination.
I see it coming and I also see that the call to action in my heart is to help him learn how to sit with discomfort. How to face the pain of hurt, grief, anger, humiliation, failure and not let it overcome him.
We don’t know how to be with discomfort in the American culture. At least not that I can tell.
But I want him to be so strong and wise and brave that he will face discomfort head on. That he will allow himself to feel it all and release it so that only the lessons remain. I want him to know deep in his heart, he can handle it ALL and thrive.
And my heart will crack even deeper and longer as I stand aside and watch him go through it.
My son’s name means “strong as a bear. Noble.” I have been preparing him for this since his birth.
My heart is strong. His heart will be stronger for my strength.
Tell me mama, when have you been surprised by your heart strength?