Motherhood, with Benefits

So you become a mom for the first time. And in an instant, your view shifts from “just the two of us” to “holy crap, there are more than two of us.” I remember after the initial days and weeks the panic slowly faded, and I started sinking into a new and comfortable groove, grateful for having my mom and sister close to reassure me that I could figure this whole mom-thing out. And this more inward focus on our new family was fine and dandy for years, with no big changes on the horizon – other than throwing in another kid for good measure.

And then you blink and your oldest starts school. You let them out into the world, and their world expands.

When Alex came home from his first day of kindergarten, he was beaming. I was beaming. My beaming was along the lines of: “Thank God he survived his first day on a yellow bus.” His beaming was from a different place entirely: “Mommy, I have a best friend!” And he had an art project to prove it. He unrolled a big piece of blue construction paper and on it was a school bus cut carefully from yellow construction paper. And on the bus were two boys, drawn in crayon. In the drawing they were smiling. One was labeled “Alex” and the other “Grey.”

I am guessing Alex probably has no memory of this. But for me, it was one of those indelible childhood moments I will always remember. His first best friend.

And then I slowly discovered that one of the fringe benefits of my sons making new friends is that I would make amazing friendships as well. People I would probably never have met, if not for their friendships. Incredible, empowering, unique, and brave women who touch my life daily.

And by brave, I mean brave. About half way through kindergarten I met Grey’s mom, Amy. She invited Alex over for a playdate, and since it was one of his first, I was clueless on the protocol. Do I stay? Do I go? But because I didn’t want to intrude on her time we ended up speaking only briefly when I dropped him off and picked him up.

A few months later, it was the end of year picnic at day care. Alex and Grey, and another close friend Nick, raced in potato-sacks.  Amy, Nick’s mom Laura, and I sat casually on the grass and chit-chatted like we had not a care in the world. For good reason. The school year was winding down. We had all survived Kindergarten.

And then that same night Laura called. She had found out through another friend that Amy was sick. Really sick. This of course was impossible, because we had just been sitting on a picnic blanket eating brownies and watching the boys jump around in potato sacks. But it was true. Amy had Stage III breast cancer at the age of 32.

She hadn’t told us at the picnic. Maybe because she didn’t think it was the right time. Or maybe because we were all still getting to know each other. But I’m thinking that maybe she wanted to have just one more day, one more moment, of “normal.” Because that summer became the fight for Amy’s life.

It is not my place to tell Amy’s story about how she fought to hell and back. But I can tell you I have never seen anything like it. Her faith, her positivity, her focus, her dignity, her unflinching determination in the face of her diagnosis, taught me and everyone around her what true courage looks like.

And somehow, in the midst of this fight, friendships bloomed. Through surgery, chemo, radiation, pain. Because that is the kind of person Amy is. And I am now fortunate to count Amy among my closest friends. A friend I never would have had if it weren’t for Alex and Grey.

So as we head towards Mother’s Day this weekend, I would like to thank my sons. Not only for making me a mother, but for opening the doors of friendship to women who stare down cancer, run marathons, are speech therapists, play ice hockey, earn PhD’s, make me laugh so hard I can’t speak, volunteer for countless hours at school, work tirelessly for non-profits, and welcomed me with open arms as the new kid on the block in our neighborhood.

This was the bonus of becoming a mom that truly had never crossed my mind, but has become one of Motherhood’s greatest gifts.

Alex and Grey ~ 3rd grade ~ and still bus buddies. :)