The life live as I raise my Grandchildren ends in a question of this new kind of mother
Momma Bear, Where are You?
It happened in a split second. Yesterday my youngest grandson, a precarious two-year old, got caught between our wheelchair ramp and the van door as both were automatically closing. As soon as I saw what was happening, I threw the milkshakes I was carrying and dove to the far side of the van. I slammed my hands into the ramp to push it away as I yelled, “NO”! The ramp and door responded and quickly opened releasing him from the space between them. I grabbed the toddler up so quick no one, including my wide-eyed grandson, knew what had happened
He was fine and it turned out that my perception of what was happening was far worse than reality. The van has a safety feature that would have stopped the door and ramp from closing if it had actually started to squeeze him. But there I stood, cuddling him and checking him and kissing him and hugging him until I stopped shaking enough to walk. I thanked God that he was safe.
Today my back and neck ache from the dive and my knees are a mess. They are rug burned and skinned, red and scabby. And, though I've been cleaning and cleaning, I wonder if I’ll ever find all the sticky spots where Ice cream splattered in the van.
Still, there was not one thought of not trying to save him, no matter the cost. My instinct was is and always will be to protect and care for children. Nothing in this world could have stopped me from getting to and saving him.
And I wonder why my daughter isn’t like that? What makes her oblivious to the dangers she has exposed the (her) kids to? And what made her unable or unwilling to rescue them?
Granted she never had a ramp closing on one of them, but she did have people crazy for drugs breaking into their home. She did have people put one of her children in a dark room in a crib with the door shut for hours on end. She did have people do other abusive things to her kids that I will not go in to. And not once did she remove them from the situation. CPS had to. It Pisses me off.
I always protected her when she was little. I took on anyone or anything I perceived as even a small threat to her. I could not change that about me even if I tried. It is part of who I am, why isn't it part of her?
I thought all women were born that way. I thought all women that became mothers would become momma bear champions for their children. Now I know that is not true. it is not for this one daughter of mine.
I am trying to remember if she ever was protective over any of them. I can remember a time or two when she stood up for them, or at least for her oldest. He is seven now. The times I am remembering seem a life time ago now. They were before meth and heroine and all that is evil wormed its way in to our world. I wonder, I wonder a lot of things. Above all I wonder if she lives through all of this, will she ever be right again?