Mama's Lament

By Margy McCarthy


It’s certainly not for lack of material that I struggle putting together this post.

I have plenty to say.

The problem, I’m afraid, is that it’s just too soon to say it. It’s too fresh.

I’ve heard it talked about; heard the keening of other mothers- but I guess I didn’t know how primal those cries were. I think you can’t know until it happens to you.

My baby boy left home today. He hugged me hard, told me he loved me and would miss me, kissed me three- maybe four times on the way out the door-- and he was gone. And now he will never be in my home every day the way he has been his whole life until today- ever again.

Everything has changed.

I know that my job- from the moment he was placed into my arms in the recovery room nineteen years ago- has been to take that baby home and make a grown up out of him. Physically, there is no question of my success. I also know that I have stretched my time with him already by his doing his first year of college locally.

Don’t get me wrong. I am excited for him, out on his own, stretching his wings, seeing what he can do. I remember that feeling myself. I am also more than a little jealous that he will be in Flagstaff where the air smells of pine and the shade is deep and green.

But I’m scared for him too.

And there is an ache inside me I’m afraid will be there forever.

And that’s all I can say about it right now.