I'm Gettin' Me a Ladder

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Aka "The Dark Night"

This is not a story I intended to tell here. Not because I'm embarrassed about it, although I think it does require some humility to admit the frightful truth, but because I really think I am just too extreme for you to relate. I decided over the last two days, however, that if I can help someone, or someone can help me, it's worth talking about.

I mentioned a while back, in the fall, after we took our oldest son to college, that I was communicating with him every night by text. Just a little assurance at the end of each day that he is safe, and all is well. If you have college kids, or even grown adult kids, you understand how important it is to know that all is well when you cannot see for yourself. If you have little ones at home and they drive you nuts all day with their constant presence (although I'm sure you'd never admit to such a thing), take a moment to appreciate their little bodies making contact with yours all day -- at least you know that they are safe.

Well, my story begins on Friday night at 10 p.m. -- the hour at which I receive a text each night that begins with "Hi mom," and eventually ends with "LU2" (Love you, too). On Friday night at 10 p.m., my phone was silent. After waiting for his incoming text for about 20 minutes, I texted him. No response. I waited a while again and sent another prompt. Nothing. Then I called. No answer.

Now, for many mothers, maybe this event (or non-event, as the case may be) would prompt you to say to yourself, "Oh, he must be busy," or "He must be having fun." My husband, knowing what was going on in my mind said "He's fine."

I waited a while and then went up to bed, taking my phone with me, still thinking I would hear back from him when he noticed the time. At about midnight I sent him one final text saying "Text me whenever you get this so I know you're safe -- no matter the time." I turned off my light and began praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet. And then I slept for about 20 minutes and woke with a start. My heart was pounding and and I felt sick to my stomach. I got out of bed, took my phone and went downstairs. I tried calling him again. No answer.

At this point I convinced myself, as I did repeatedly throughout the night, that the reason I was having these physical symptoms of heart pounding and sick stomach was because of some mother-child connection -- that there was something terribly wrong with my child and I instinctively knew it.

I began to pray. I prayed the St, Michael chaplet. I prayed with such fervency it bordered on begging. And I called. No answer. With each call my heart sunk a little lower and my mind took me to places no mother's mind should go. I can't possibly put into words the scenarios I came up with, but I can tell you they were absolutely the worst case possible. I never thought he lost his phone. I never thought he was somewhere else and left it in his room. My mind went to the worst case scenario, zero to 100, in no time flat.

And this is where you realize I am a nut job.

Eventually I went back to bed and begged (yes, I begged) God to let me sleep so that I would not have to participate in this torture of the mind any more. Eventually, God let me sleep, though I still tossed and turned and woke repeatedly with a start.

At 7 a.m. my torture ended. My phone sounded with an incoming text. "I'm soooo sorry mom. I fell asleep early and didn't text you."

I immediately called him. "You've been asleep all night?"

"Yeah, I got in bed early with my laptop and the next thing I knew it was 7 a.m."

"Why didn't you hear your phone?"

"It's on vibrate and I was sound asleep. I just saw your text and all the missed calls."


He had been sleeping all night long. He was completely and totally safe. All. Night. Long.

After I talked with him, I slept for a little while longer, finally falling into a deep sleep. When I woke, Doug and I talked. He had slept all night. He wasn't worried in the least. Why then, did my mind torture me with these worst case scenarios? Is it because I am a mother? Do all mothers do this?

I asked Doug if he remembered that book that we used to read to the kids, I Love You Forever? He vaguely remembered it. I reminded him that the mother, even when the little boy was all grown up, used to check on him when he was sleeping. She even went over to his house with a ladder and climbed in his bedroom window to make sure he was safe. I told Doug I'm gettin' me a ladder and the next time this happens, I'm using it.

That's me.

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As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.

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