Another Shot at Late Motherhood

      Even though I have never been a mother, I feel I have fairly good maternal instincts. Coming from a large family, I was expected to learn how to properly take care of my much younger sister and brother. The women of my family were good teachers of how to physically nurture children but fell somewhat short on emotional component. They were, after all, tight-assed WASPs. I learned a great deal about the emotional needs of children from my siblings, as well as by helping my younger sister when my nephew was born. Additionally, for about a year, I also worked on a psych unit exclusively with children. This enabled me to further apply developmental psychology and behavioral therapy to children horribly abused, unloved, and disabled with attachment disorders.

      Children of all ages seem to sense my comfort level with them and become easily attached to me. Whenever I visit girlfriends whose children I have known since they were babies, their now adult children always make it a point to also see me. Two weeks ago a friend’s fourteen year old grandson was visiting from another city; he insisted that his grandmother arrange a breakfast so he could spend time with talking with me. Whether it is my groundedness, firm boundaries, or accepting persona, children like being around me.      

      In my early life, I always expected to become a mother one day. For a number of reasons, it did not happen. I do not regret this. Consistently, the majority of my women friends who have had children have told me countless times I was blessed to have never had children. They feel they paid a high price for their sacrifice and did not reap much satisfaction from their responsibilities as a mother. A number of studies about motherhood attest that my friends are not alone in their feelings about this.    

     Yesterday I received a surprising phone call from Christian, the twenty-five year old son of a good friend. He was calling from his parent’s home in Florida where he was visiting. The last time I spoke to him was about a year ago when his father brought him over to my house for vocational counseling. At that time he changed his college major from electrical to mechanical engineering and was seeking vocational advice from me. Though I had met him previously, we formed a stronger bond that day discussing his goals and dreams.

     From his visit that day, it was plain that his parents also hoped I had some magic pixie dust to get him refocused. Christian, being the youngest in his family, appreciated how I saw his strengths being distinct than those of his parents and sister.  He is a kind, sensitive young man whom I perceived needed direction and support. He is motivated but tends to become easily overwhelmed. As a former Vocational Counselor, I could see he would be someone who would most likely take a vocationally circuitous route with many paths. Unlike the rest of his family, I suspected his artistic soul would not align with traditional academic accomplishment followed by career building. This was not welcome news for one wanting to appease his familial high achievers. My intuition told me he would be a late bloomer in life, something most young people today do not believe is possible.

     Christian began out conversation catching me up on his new plans to move back to southern California to resume college and work. We discussed how he has integrated yoga and meditation into his daily life to help stabilize his focus. Being a meditator, we compared our styles of meditation and how valuable it is in dealing with our tendency towards obsessiveness. He seemed more grounded and centered. Then came the question out of the blue I for which I was unprepared. He asked if he could stay with me temporarily when he came back to California until he got back on his feet. I was taken aback that this young man would even consider living with his mother’s friend. Because he is such a good soul, I said yes. But there is also something about Christian that brings out a maternal side of me, a side rarely I experience.

      This is not my first foray in taking in my friend’s adult children. I always do so with clear intent, time limits, and other contractual agreements to reinforce I am not just their second codependent pseudo-mom. Christian moving in with me could be mutually beneficial for both of us. My strengths may provide him with a stronger new start and he may bring out my less tough, softer maternal side. We’ll see.