When our children are little, they come to us with a cut finger or a scraped knee and say, "it hurts, kiss it and make it better!" And we do. And it does, tears are replaced with giggles and our babies run off to resume playing. And in those moments we are invincible. We are the mother. We can fix everything.
Until the day comes when something happens and we can't fix it. And we are devastated, because the magic of our kisses has always worked before. Really, we are blindsided by this phenomenon.
I became aware of these distinctions as I sat in the waiting room of the hospital with the staff member from the Sukyo Mahikari center, where my friend and I are both practitioners in the Art of True Light. http://www.sukyomahikari.org/ Earlier that afternoon, I helped my friend bring her daughter for what would be her final stay. We had left her husband to fill out paperwork, and we had driven back home so my friend could gather clothing and toiletries for a few days. The hospital was great about setting things up so my friend could be in the room with her daughter 24-7.
When we returned, the first sight that greeted us was the concerned face of our staff member. Within seconds, before we could even greet him, a nurse came out, and confronted my friend saying, "if she dies do you want us to resuscitate her?" My friend deflected saying that she needed to talk with her husband and would let her know. Then she went off to look for him, leaving me with the staff member; both of us feeling a bit useless and helpless.
Knowing that this overwhelming helplessness would not serve my friend, I began to figure out why I was feeling what I was feeling. I did this out loud as the staff member, who was a dear friend, aware of my process, sat listening. I spoke aloud what I wrote at the beginning of this post. Just the process of seeing how we set ourselves up as mothers gave me some grounding and assurance, and I knew what I could say that would truly serve my friend. She came out a few minutes later, looking very 'deer in the headlights.'
In order to get her full focus and attention, I called her name somewhat sternly. Immediately she looked into my eyes. I said, "It is a year from now. Your daughter has been dead for several months. What is the decision you made today that is the easiest for you to live with?" In that moment her eyes became clear and her face became peaceful. She declared, with strength in her voice, "My daughter already told me that if she goes that she does not want to be revived or put onto any kind of machinery. That is what she wants so that is my answer."
Our staff member then spoke up and shared the devastating impact of the doctors driving the gigantic needle of drugs straight into his mother's heart--think of the needle scene with Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. I was truly moved by the intimacy and vulnerability of our staff member, as the members from Japan tend to be very, very private about their personal lives. I had the intuitive sense that he was providing an anchor for my friend so she would truly know in her heart of hearts that she was making the best choice for her daughter.
My friend left to find her husband again and to sign the 'do not revive' papers. Her daughter passed quietly and peacefully three days later. Her life was a gift and a blessing and she is missed here on the physical plain.
There are many structures and beliefs about being a mother which do not serve us. They cause us guilt, or frustration, or a number of other feelings &/or behavior which derail us and leave us in a state of helplessness or hopelessness. I am filled with such joy that I was allowed to learn and fine tune the processes that allow us to overcome the ravages of buying into all of that 'perfect mother' crap. When you are ready to say, "Enough is enough!", I will be happy to work with you. Freedom and ease await.
I used the terms 'my friend' and 'her daughter' in the post as a respect for their privacy and my inability to come up with fake names; it's just my way.
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