Carey Graffam to the front of the class, please.

When you're pregnant people give you so much advice. "Don't hold the baby too much so as not to spoil", "Put a mitten over their hands so they won't learn to suck their thumbs in infancy", etc...as you know the list goes on and on. Most advice is brainless, some of it is downright ridiculous-see advice quotes above. But all in all we take it in stride with a dash of salt on the side. There are many things, however, people don't tell you. Mostly how labor will be as traumatic as Vietnam flashbacks, and how, once our babies are born, we leave the hospital with our babies, our bags, and our hearts in the tiny little hands of these angels. One of the biggest things, that fails to be mentioned, is that, as they grow and become more of who they are and what they will become the fear and anxiety grows, too. I'm on baby number 4. The scale of this fear and anxiety ranges from a little twitch watching the baby hold on to the couch hoping she doesn't fall backwards and hit her head, to sleepless nights because the oldest child is not adapting in the world he was born into. There was a time when I could hold his hand and know that if I let go the training wheels were still on to protect him. But now, with the training wheels gone, I have to fumble through the mind of a 10 year old boy hoping that I don't stumble as I blindly guide myself through. Sure I can tell him what's fair and unfair, I can tell him what's right and what's wrong, but most importantly I can rest my head at night knowing that this beautiful boy will make a difference to someone in this world. I won't force my hopes and dreams, of what I think he should become, on to him. We all aspire to make these daydreams of our children being presidents, world saving doctors, even superheros come true,  but in reality most of them won't be any of these. It doesn't mean, as parents, we have failed to engrave the book of knowledge and morals in their minds. It simply means that we got out of the daydream knowing fully well, that even if only one life was changed by them, it would certainly be more than enough. But unfortunately we can't always control the world around them. No amount of bubble wrap can cushion some of the blows that lay in waiting for them. So, as a mother, it makes my heart skip a beat when I hear the world is being cruel to this adoring, caring little man. This child of mine who, since the very first second my eyes were laid on him, stole not only my heart, but everything that came with my life. When I felt him in my arms for the first time, it seemed, as though, the galaxies lined up in perfect formation. I have watched this son of mine grow from a beautiful baby, to a respectful and loving child. So then how? How could this world that I chose to bring him into treat him so unfair? Am I really to believe the old story lines that the good finish last? That the ones who are nice lose the race? I refuse. As painful, as it is right now, knowing that while I am here plucking out my heart strings with every click on this keyboard, my beautiful child is walking alone on the playground watching the other kids play, I will not let that change him. If I have to carry him on my shoulders until my spine is twisted and my knees are completely worn out, I will. Over the past few days I have had a hard time dealing with the news that barely a handful of children in his school are nice to him. To have my child tell me that no one will play with him at recess, so he plays basketball alone or just walks around is heart wrenching. I was told, by him, that when he plays basketball and other kids want to play, he is told to "get lost." So what am I to do? I certainly can't go down there and beat up some kids. And as much as I want to call the parents and say "great job raising that one" I can't. Why? Because that would get me nowhere, and would make it twice as worse for him. So instead, when everyone is alseep, I saturate my pillow with all the sorrows that come with my child growing up, and all the joys of remembering how earlier that night my son came up to me and said "It's okay mom. I only let the ones who love me affect my life, and the ones who hurt me I pray for them." And now I realize that we can tell our children that the world is a cruel place. Or, we can simply trust that they know that, even though life knocks you down from time to time, it's the way you hold your head high while picking yourself back up, that matters the most. All this time I have spent trying to teach my child the facts of life when in reality I was the one sitting in front of the chalkboard being instructed, and I never even knew I was there.