Keep It Together, Momma

Sitting here in front of this bright red carry-on bag half filled with the boys’ clothes, I can’t help but freeze. This colorful array of Captain America, Ninja Turtles, Minecraft, Batman, and just about any popular theme to the five-to-seven year old peer group has caught my stare. Tiny size six khaki shorts folded up nice and neat in my lap just can’t seem to find their way inside the suitcase. My arms can’t move. My body won’t respond. I can’t even manage to blink as I feel every ounce of my being want to shatter into a billion sharp pieces.

This isn’t the kind of heart shattering experience I had when my marriage was over. No, this is almost equivalent to the pure heartbreak of when my daughter’s heart stopped, and I had to say goodbye forever to her. The world froze then, and it’s attempting to freeze now. Wave after wave of fear and sorrow sweeps through me. I’m taking its beating with tears streaming down my face. Instantly, I feel it. I hear deep in my subconscious the same strong whisper that brought me solace in holding my lifeless daughter in my arms. “Keep it together, momma.”

My kids are my world. They always have been and always will be. I have to say that because I’m their mom, right? No. I don’t. I truly mean it from the depths of my soul. Most, if not all moms, completely understand what I mean when I say this, but I can’t speak for them. I can only speak for my two wildly energetic and deeply compassionate boys and myself. After all, I am their advocate. There is absolutely not a single soul on this planet that has put even 1/100th of the time, love, and energy that I have put into my children. And I truly mean no one. That notion is heavy and with it brings an immense bitterness. I can’t let those past angers and past actions stifle me. I must stay focused on the task at hand and the beautiful future ahead. My boys need me now more than ever, and this mother is not going to disappoint.

Now, I must share half of their summer with their father. I will never speak ill of him strictly out of love for my children. All us divorced moms know that’s a struggle, but hear me out. When you imply something is wrong with their other parent, you are telling your children something is wrong with part of themselves. There is nothing wrong with these two beautiful young men I’m raising. I cannot allow the destruction of our marriage strip away their self esteem. That will always matter more than any of the actions of the past. I will not speak ill of their father, but that fact does not invalidate the fear and anxiety that surrounds the reality the boys will be with him for a great amount of time. This is the longest we have ever been separated from one another.

To top it off, my youngest boy in all his blond hair and blue eyed glory doesn’t want to go. In all my experience as a mother faking excitement just to get out the door, I muster up the same fake enthusiasm when I encourage him that his time with his father will be wonderful. The real fear is from being away from their mommy, but we all have to face our fears. Inevitably this experience will build his self esteem and independence.

Despite the tough time ahead and all the emotions going into it, I’ve made the decision to do all that I can to make the best of it. That means more personal development on my end as a mother and leader and sucking up the fact that I have to finish getting their belongings together for a month stay.

A few slow blinks, a deep inhale, and slow exhale brings me back to the brightness of the red suitcase in front me. These tiny khaki shorts aren’t making their way in that bag by staring it down. It’s time to get the job done. Keep it together momma; you’ve got this.