You can Count on my Decision
I’ve made decisions since before I could talk, I’m sure. Listen to mom. Don’t listen to mom. Go get my shoes. Don’t get my shoes. Of course these decisions progressed with time. Date the boy. Don’t date the boy. Go to county college. Go to the university further from home. After I was married, these decisions and choices continued but I realized their effect on my husband. Sometimes they were decisions from my past, but more often than not, they were new ones that he needed to be incorporated into. Rent a house. Buy a house. Go over on the grocery bill. Attempt to stay under on the grocery bill. We can include the fun things too: Where do we go on vacation this year? What are we naming our next child?
But after becoming a parent, the weight of decision making suddenly had several pounds added to it. The weight felt like it went from 15 to 40 pounds. The magnitude of that realization, that what my husband and I were deciding would help determine the next part of my child’s life, was like someone lifting a curtain to unknown territory. How do I make decisions for my sweet little boy?
When wondering the possibility of potentially moving part way across the country, I looked at my son, my husband and I talked and prayed through the decision. I thought about the people who loved him and he felt comfortable around no longer being there. I thought about his other tiny toddler friends and how a move would bring him to new friends.
My mother assured me that he would be resilient through the change if that was what we decided and while I believed her, there was a part of me that ached. I could not explain to him the depth of our dilemma. I could not ask him how he felt about it. It all came down to trust on his part.
Trust that his father and I would make the decision to the best of our ability. Trust that we were taking him into account throughout all of this. Trust that we would attempt to do what was right.
There are so many hidden things I find in motherhood. I’ve learned more about myself in the last two years and have been forced to step down a level or two on the “selfish ladder.” I know bedtime can’t always be at 8pm because he might need to be snuggled longer. I know my writing and reading time cannot extend to all hours of the afternoon because he will wake up from his nap. I know that I can’t sit down to breakfast immediately because he is still too young to make his own breakfast.
Of all the choices I will ever have to make for my son or that will affect him there is one that I will forever know the end result: I will love him endlessly, and ultimately, the best that I can. Because if there is one thing that he deserves, it is his father’s and mother’s love. That’s one choice he can always count on.