Tonight as my son sleeps with a tall piece of plywood outside of his crib preventing him from climbing onto his changing table and jumping off, I reflect on this new phase in his life. I reflect on what it might feel like to be two. I am encouraged once again to hold fast to this motherly truth: no matter how hard I am pushed back at, no matter how many times I have to repeat the expectations, no matter how disrespected or unappreciated I may feel, I will never give up on my son. I must continue to pray each night for a renewed patience, for wisdom to guide him, for love to forgive him, and for empathy to understand him. Just like every other phase he has grown through, this too shall pass. And right now, he’s just two.
I’ve been struggling to cope with the change taking place between Benjamin and I. It is so clear that he is no longer my little baby. He’s two now and he’s exploring the world as an independent person.
I am nostalgic for the simple days when Benjamin was a baby. Everything was new and pure. Lately, with his behavior, I sometimes have a hard time remembering that he is still my Benjamin. Some days he seems like a kid I don’t even recognize. Our once very close bond, is stretching while he tries out life away from my wing. And I know all these changes are normal, I know they are a phase, I know it will be ok, but I don’t feel that way. I feel hurt and I feel confused at who’s even in charge, me or this small person who sometimes has so much power all of a sudden? Some days I doubt myself so much that the simplest task have me wondering if I’m doing anything in my parenting right. But then I’m reminded…he’s just two.
It’s hard to know my place. How do I interact with him? How to I connect with him? How do I make sure he knows that he is loved? The answers to these questions are always changing. I must adapt to meet his needs, to reach him where he’s at each day.
I see him conflicted too. I see him acting out because he needs me to hold him close, but in his tantrums he is pushing me away. It saddens me to watch him struggle through this change in his identity. As a mother, I want to take all his suffering, all his discomfort, and carry it for him. But I know I can’t take it. I must let him fall, get back up, learn from it, repeat.
I see him testing all the boundaries. Although some days it feels like he’s doing it just see how mad I can get, I know that he’s testing these boundaries to make sure (one more time) that he’s still safe within them. That the boundaries are still there holding him, keeping him safe.
The simplest things these days are so complicated. Somehow getting him dressed and out the door has the ability to take an hour to work through. The most basics of our routine have become foreign to him and he fights with all his might to avoid following the directions. But it’s going to be ok. It’s all part of the simple fact that he’s just two.
Through my dedication to learning how to be a better mama to this little boy, I pray that in his heart he will always sense me saying this:
“I am with you in this. I am not going anywhere. No amount of emotion you have, will make me leave your side, no amount of repetition you need will make me too tired to be your mama, no amount of explanations necessary will make me stop trying to teach you, no amount of rejections will make me stop pursuing you, and no matter how many times you smack into those same boundaries, will it ever make me give up on you. I got you. I am right here. And I understand that right now, you’re just two.”