being a mother (lyn)

I remember when I was pregnant with Alexander.  I would study the What to Expect When You’re Expecting book, so that at any point in my pregnancy, I would know exactly what parts of my unborn baby had formed.  First I worried about getting through the first three months, which are always the most risky.  Then, because I was 41, I worried about the results of the amnio, which I didn’t get back until month five or so.  Then I worried about the birth.  Then SIDS.  And then I’d think, well, if Alexander can make it to age five, then I can stop worrying.  I don’t know why I thought five was such a magical number, but I guess I figured that by age five, Alexander would be more capable of handling the world, since he’d be walking, talking, and thinking more on his own by then.

What I didn’t realize was that the worrying never stops. A mother is always a mother.

I called Alexander last night and he answers with his usual, “Yeah.  Hi.  I can’t talk right now.  I’m….(going to dinner, about to go to class, in the library,  working out, studying, etc.).”  I’ll call you later.”  He doesn’t.

I text him.  He doesn’t respond.  I worry all night, and sleep restlessly.  I text again this morning, and still get no response.  Finally, I text in all caps, “CAN YOU PLEASE JUST LET ME KNOW YOU ARE OK...I GET WORRIED WHEN YOU IGNORE ME FOR SO LONG.” 

The caps must have gotten to him. Alexander writes back, “I’m in the library studying really hard right now.  I have a prelim tomorrow.” 

Okay, now I can relax.  Sort of.  I’m glad I won’t know what time he’ll go to bed tonight.  Or if he’ll go to bed at all.  I do like that about college--- the not knowing of some things.