Mother of One - the Overprotective

I am "that" mom. I never expected to be her. While there are many journal entries alluding to my intuition telling me I would only have one child and it would be a girl, I still always pictured myself as a mom of more than one. I have spoken to other moms of only children and in so many cases, like me, the moms wanted to have more than one child. Many of us at some point either had a miscarriage or the reason they only had one is because they didn't have a choice, and I have frequently heard agonizing stories of how they came to be a mom of an only child. While there are some moms that choose this route, the vast majority of fellow moms with whom I have somehow ended up in a deep conversation, have at some level confided they long for more children, but had to accept for one reason or another their solo child. It isn't that we think our children are lacking; it's often a nurturing instinct and drive to give more love to so many more.

The first child is the one most likely to have the perfect baby books, everything in order, etc, the OCD mom. As subsequent children come along, the mother spreads her time between many children, learns to sweat less of the small stuff, and the children adapt to things differently. The mother of one doesn't get the same opportunity to learn how to dote less, adjust her expectations, etc. We're more likely to be the helicopter moms. That isn't to say that every one of us is, but have you taken the time to hear the stories of how we got to be that way?

All of this came back to me the last eight days. Getting the call from school that my daughter had fainted at the book fair was alarming. I was so grateful my boyfriend happened to be home with me. It was scary and I had no clue what was going on. Hearing the accounts from her teacher, the staff, and seeing her friends completely red faced and tear soaked were sobering moments. The accounts of they don't know how she fainted; they just heard the book shelves crash. Her teacher rushed to her and when she recounted the story to me, I saw the fear in her eyes. The EMT passed it off as it sounded to him like an anxiety attack as she hadn't urinated or defecated on herself and didn't present with typical seizure like activity. I thank God for how hard my daughter's teacher advocated when I saw the look in her eyes that said there was something going on and it scared her. She has a large class full of students and has a good balance, so when she felt the need to urge me to listen that something was going on, I listened to her over the EMT. When the front office staff also pushed for me to be aware of just how scary it was, I knew that this wasn't anyone over reacting. It was an absolute God moment of people in her life loving her and advocating for her.

This past Monday, four days after the incident, she was having an EEG and we had an appointment with a pediatric neurologist. What I expected to hear was that yes, she had a seizure on Thursday, but there were no abnormalities. What I learned instead was that during the span of a thirty minute EEG, she in fact had three abnormal brain activities: seizures. She is on water restrictions (showers and swimming must be supervised due to risk until we get this thing figured out and under control). Her screen time is twenty minutes at a time for two to three times a day and she needs to wear sunglasses to reduce the risk of it triggering activity. Trying to digest all of this information, I admit I felt a range of emotions and I teared up at times. It was hard as hell to stay composed. I didn't want her to see me scared, but I got it. I understood this is serious shit.

My daughter is eleven years old in fifth grade and I admit that letting go of the helicopter mom is something I have worked hard to do over the past year. I had so many emotions come rushing back as I tried to process everything. She's eleven. She's supposed to be earning more independence. I'm supposed to be able to leave her alone more and for longer periods of time. What the hell am I supposed to do with this kind of information?!

I was the mom who slept with a video monitor in my room until it died. She was five and I almost bought a new one. I had the flood of emotions come back from that Florida trip ten years ago when she had her first seizure and I couldn't get home to her until the next day. I remembered that promise I made to her that my number one job is to keep her safe and healthy; that I would do everything I could to prevent her from having another seizure. Here I was ten years later learning that not only did she have a seizure last week and have three during the EEG, but she has been having them right in front of me and I didn't know it. I didn't know what an absence seizure was. I didn't know that the staring off into space moments that my boyfriend and I have both noticed, but attributed to her ADHD and were slightly annoyed that just calling her name didn't get her attention, that THOSE were seizures?! I didn't know that my little girl's brain was having short circuits and I had seen it happen, but didn't know enough to do anything. I just got frustrated thinking it was lack of attention. Insert the mom guilt.

I was scared, overwhelmed, and thirsting for knowledge as I learned what was really going on. I knew that I needed to arm myself with education. In order to move beyond the fear paralysis, I would need to learn what we were dealing with and get a second opinion from a pediatric neurologist who was on the same page as I am: treat the whole patient, don't just tell me to give her a pill. Yes, I am "that mom," the one that grills the MD because I need to know that we agree on how to treat her, that the MD will give orders that will be followed at both houses. I need to know that he will consider research in areas such as lifestyle and nutrition.

This past week can best be described as overwhelm. I spent it immersed in internet searches, messages and phone calls from strangers and friends, felt the power of prayer in amazing ways, and cried on so many levels. I felt like the mother of a newborn all over again. I've gone in her room, just to check on her while she's sleeping. I've hesitated when dropping her off at school and tried to pretend I wasn't scared. I've tried to overcome the fear by educating myself, but in all, I felt the fear that many mothers of one feel and try to squelch. It isn't to say that other moms don't feel this, but there's a reason the moms of only children have a reputation of being overbearing. Many of us are the mother of only children for reasons that were beyond our control. Our mommy hearts yearn for the ability to give more mommy love and wish that we had more hearts to disperse it, so yes, sometimes we come across as smothering.

If you've ever lost someone, it's hard to not smother someone else and in a way, many of us feel that we lost the ability to spread our motherly love and we try to manage it better each day. For all the frustrations we admit because yes, we're human too, we look at our only children with a different set of eyes. We are grateful each day for the children God blessed us with and yet, we also try to pretend we didn't want more or that we don't feel like we lost out on something other mothers have. Judge away at the smothering or helicoptering as you might see it. Maybe one day, you'll understand there's always a story behind why there was only one and it wasn't always our choice.