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May 18, 2012

Category: Letter About Son

June 5, 2009

The Mother You Made Me, by Katharine Foust

by admin — Categories: Letter About Son, Letter From Mother, Letter from Mother to Son, Letter to Son, Mother's Day, Writers — 9 Comments

To My Son,

Mother’s Day is coming soon. As you do every year, you will feel bad that you can’t buy me something. Words cannot make you fully understand why I prefer the things you make me with your own small hands to anything you could get for me with money. One day your own child will shyly give you a handmade gift or card and you will know, as do I, the thought and effort that went into this creation. You will also know that no store can possibly duplicate the effort that went into this gift of love. Let me see if I can explain why no amount of cash can purchase what you have given me.

You try to buy me flowers. You can’t see the garden that blooms within me every time I see you perform a kind gesture for a stranger. You don’t know that every kind gesture you perform plants a seed in the mind of those you do kindness to.

You wish to buy me a necklace, but I prefer the glow in my heart that outshines any jewel that would adorn my neck. The jewel in my heart gets brighter with every hug I get from you.

That ring in the store begs you to put it on my finger. How can you not see that your hand in mine is the only adornment I require?
I need no earrings to hang from ears. They may clutter the sound of your voice and cause me to miss one of those questions you ask as you assume I am all knowing.

Do not take me out of my home for dinner. My taste buds revel in the macaroni and cheeses that you made with love and I would rather be subjected to your proud display of table manners than those I may encounter in any given restaurant.

I don’t need to see that movie I’ve displayed so much interest in when I can be so entertained by our walk through the woods as you play scout and Indian.

The scent of a new perfume may cloud my nose as I lean my cheek on your head that rests on my shoulder and take in the fresh odor or your newly washed hair.

No printer of cards ever put so much struggle in the creation of letters or so much thought as you into the words you write to melt my heart.
The new sunglasses you think would look so pretty on me cannot possibly make me see the world in the light that you have given me.

In short my son, it is I who thank you on Mother’s Day. You give me the greatest gift of all in simply being my son. Your very presence has made me want to be a better person. When you say “I love you.”, I know that it doesn’t matter how the rest of the world feels about me because I have you. When you tell me that I’m a good mom, all my past mistakes seem to be worthwhile if the course of them got me to you.

When you seem uncertain and ask me things like why I would want to have such a child as you, I am reminded that I would want no other and that God gave me his greatest blessing not in monetary wealth or material items, but by letting me look into your eyes every day.

Your struggle on your way to adolescence makes my pride in you overwhelm me as I witness every day that though you are sometimes clumsy, your hands never seek to do harm.

Your anger over small injustices assures me that you will be fair in your course through life.

When you point out my flaws in such a loving manner, I cannot help but see that every part of you makes me a better person.

And so my son, in closing, it is I that owes you a “Thank you.” on Mother’s Day. Your very existence has changed me from the person I was to the mother I am.

Gratefully Yours,
The Mother You Made Me

~~~

Katharine Foust is a single mother of one fabulous boy, a writer, a teacher and a student. She prefers the company of children to adults. Currently she is pursuing a degree in education with a specialty in special education. Katharine writes nonfiction and is currently working on an educational project. To read more about Katharine, visit her website at: http://justkat73.googlepages.com/home

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May 28, 2009

A Letter To My Child, by C. Peters

by admin — Categories: Abusive Boyfriend, Cheating, Ex Boyfriend, Letter About Son, Letter from Mother to Son, Letter to Son — Tags: , , , — 7 Comments

My child,

I have so much to say so please bear with me. It’s strange how life can twist and turn and your life-long fantasy of how things should be just drifts away with the next breeze that blows by.

I wanted the perfect life for you. I wanted to be able to give you everything and anything you wanted. To say that I have always wanted you would be an understatement. I have longed for a child and was blessed to find out that you were going to grace my life in a short nine months.

Your father and I were together since I was 15 years old. Everyone warned me that, although he might be fun to date, he would never provide me with security and was not “marriage material”. I didn’t listen. I wanted to believe he would change and that my presence in his life would make him want to be a better man.

We married and my life became clear. My life would consist of never having a home of my own and working long hours just to support my husband, who would not even attempt to leave the house or his video games. We lived with my mother and I adjusted to his ways. He was an adult who never grew up.
Yet, I convinced myself he would change.

Breakfast every morning would consist of him being served first and my mother and I could have the leftovers, if there were any. He was to be picked up after, reminded to bathe, and heaven forbid we ask him to do something in the house.

For years it continued and it was my fault. I allowed it to happen.

And then my life changed. I found out I was pregnant and that you would be entering my life. I have never been as proud as I was that moment.

Things became reality when I knew that a life was beginning inside of me. From day one, I treasured you.

As the months went by, things continued to get worse with your father.

Your father started dating other women and became abusive to me.

The night that changed everything was when he hit me in my stomach at a public gathering and announced that he would end your precious life.

He was arrested and my mother and I packed our stuff and left.

I never looked back.

At that time, I was five months pregnant and in distress. My life, the one that I hoped would be perfect, was gone.

For reasons only God knows, I met Wayne. We became instant friends. He was my support system through the rest of the pregnancy with you. I could tell he was just as much in love with you as I was.

The day you were born ended up changing both of our lives forever. Wayne decided he would be your Daddy and that what I thought was just a friendship developed into more – he told me he loved me.

I have worried how I would tell you about your real father and this is it. I never meant to hurt or confuse you – and I know you don’t understand right now because you are only three years old – but I wanted the best for you.

We both have a family now – a real one.

You now have both a Mommy and Daddy who love you so much, as well as two little sisters and a little brother (hopefully) on the way soon!

So yes, my little one… I chose who your father was and made a mistake, but God made the decision on who your Daddy would be and everything is perfect.

Love,
Mommy

~~~

Author wishes to remain anonymous, and is using the pen name C. Peters.


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April 9, 2009

Misperceptions, by Melanie Marten

by admin — Categories: Letter About Son, Letter to Stranger — Tags: , , , , , , , , — 16 Comments

To the lady at the counter in the craft store yesterday,

You may not have realized I heard you as we stood next to each other at the craft store counter yesterday, though your words were obviously meant for me. As you were rolling your eyes and grumbling about how mothers should control their out-of-control, noisy children in stores, I was too busy reveling in the blessing that is my son to react to your words.

Contrary to your belief, my son was not making loud noises, dancing and jumping because he is an ill-behaved child. He was not a brat getting away with disrupting a checkout line under the nose of his tired mother, me.

My son is autistic.

You see, when my son makes odd noises or speaks gibberish words, he is not acting out. Those sounds burst forth from his spirit in his own special type of communication.

He can speak very few English words clearly, and how can you ask me to stop him from making up his own? Perhaps only a mother can understand them as they are passed through a filter of love on the way to her ears. I look in his eyes and listen to his ‘talk’ and swear I can hear what sounds like angels singing in a far off place.

When my son refuses to stand still and dances and jumps, he is not behaving badly. He is expressing joy, or contentment, or even frustration. My son cannot explain what he is feeling, so he must act it out. Society may dictate a dampened flow of raw emotion, but stifling emotions is not what motherhood should be about.

You grumbled about the three or four minutes my son’s actions affected your day, but I rejoiced in them. Some days my son makes no noise at all, or sits in his room and refuses to come out and join in the play, or has melt downs that involve kicking and screaming and tear at my heart. You saw my son on a good day, doing things that should have elicited questions rather than condemnation.

So, next time you notice the type of noises and actions my son displayed yesterday, still your judgmental tongue and take a moment to listen, watch and perhaps even learn. If another child like my son bothers you as you go about your business, do not make rude comments and gestures. Instead, simply move away quietly so you do not disrupt the mother’s enjoyment of her unique and wonderful child.

Sincerely,
The mother of an autistic son.

~~~~~
Melanie Marten is self-taught and self-employed. Besides freelance writing, she dabbles in website design and owns dozens of websites and blogs. Work is squeezed in between parenting two boys, homeschooling, feeding fish and, occasionally, sleep. You can read more of her writing by visiting her author’s site at: http://melaniemarten.com/

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