About a mama’s heartache

Yesterday evening, the pincers of worry finally stopped squeezing my poor little heart.
Because I had “reclaimed” my heart’s captain, Do, into my arms!

I didn’t complain.
But my weekend was challenging.

When you’re supposed to feel joy at the thought that Christmas is just around the corner—you end up walking around with your heart pressed as if under a heavy little stone.

Dominykas—the young archer.
For two years now, he’s been “earning” a tough kind of bread through this activity.
This weekend was the first time we sent him off to the mandatory winter session.
With an overnight stay in the forest under the open sky.
With a personal night-time orientation hike.
With a backpack weighing 17+ kg, which I could barely manage to carry myself.

I lay in a soft, warm bed, and for the first time in my life—it felt as if it were pierced with thorns. Like it had been sprinkled with shards of glass.
Better than ever hearing the wind roar outside.
More often than on other nights—I clutched the folds of the curtains—watching to see if it had started snowing yet.

And it did. And heavily.
I know he’s strong.
I know he’s patient and smart.
But this weekend, I also remembered all my motherly worries from my own adolescence and those golden words that sounded like a drum orchestra in my ears:
“Just because you’re grown-up doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

Truly.
Now I understand so much more. Differently.
And earlier, when I heard the saying “little children, little troubles”, I would raise my eyebrows:
“What could be harder than a crying, sleepless, destructive baby?”
N o t h i n g!

How unbelievably wrong I was.
While we still have them in our arms.
While they snuggle cozily beside us—life is really incomparable, much easier than when you have to let them out of sight.
Placing them deep in your heart. As if it were their guarantee of safety.
When you can’t see, can’t know if they’re cold, in pain, or scared…

It pierces your heart like the sharpest needle.
One honed by MOTHERLY LOVE.

MUA,
Emotionally tangled and “untangled,”
Mama V.