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Nothing prepares you for the carrying power of a son

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When gazing at our newborn son for the first time, the petite features, cherub fingers and toes, and pint-sized frame that fits between our hand and elbow all captivate our inner everything. Although we know our baby will grow up to be big and strong, we experience profound contentment in his present smallness and vulnerability.

There’s a certain sense of relief in our role of nurturer and protector as a boy mom. These precious beginning years are the lifeblood of our mother/son relationship when we can be strong, brave and resilient on their behalf. Someday soon enough, our little boys will become men in a world where they are called upon to protect, provide and persevere. But for now, we are grateful to carry the load.

We can see into the future, after all. A place where the demands of society will attempt to solidify the mushy center our sons embody during their carefree childhood. As mommas, we’ll do anything to nurture such treasured tenderness. We’ll slay dragons if that’s what it takes to guard their innocence.

But, alas, despite our best attempts to keep them little, one day we wake up and our sons stand eye-to-eye or tower above us altogether. As we gaze at their mature features, developed fingers and toes, and sturdy frame, our mom heart melts through the bottom of the cake cone. Even though we can no longer cradle our gentle giant, we know our little man and all his bright-eyed innocence remains.

But now our roles reverse. Our big strong boys can see into the future, after all. A place where the unpredictability and harshness of society will attempt to disrupt the peace we carried within our soul when our sons were under our watchful care. As grown men, our boys will do anything to carry us and keep us strong against the onslaught of worry and fear. They’ll move mountains if that’s what it takes to console our weary heart. Nothing can prepare a mother’s soul for such an act of love.

From this point forward, we do life with a profound sense of connection despite our physical separation. The love pulsing through our heartstrings keeps our bond alive, traversing time and space across an infrared continuum of knowing. This type of knowing is something only a mother can understand. Our instincts know no bounds, the essence of our revered offspring filters through our veins wherever we go, keeping us whole.

What a gift, the carrying power of a son.


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