The child I remember

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Armorer: This is the one that you hunted, then saved?

The Mandalorian: Yes. The one that saved me, as well.

-The Mandalorian (2019)

Kaiden is obsessed with Grogu, affectionately known as baby Yoda. He doesn’t travail with it or toss it around. He admires the tiny and tender size it holds. It might, on the surface, look small but it magnifies. Those who adore baby Yoda know the irresistible ways its mini stature can send hearts wide open, like a touchdown to softness.

Photo by Asher Pardey on Unsplash

We took baby Yoda on a Mother’s Day bike ride for cinnamon rolls. The people watched us. They carried a gaze of wonder and ever so shifting nostalgic smiles, while my backpack became a baby carrier for a delightful wide-eyed and full eared creature.

A mother’s love can remember a lot and nothing at the same time. It’s the days are long and the years go fast facade they say is motherhood or parenthood at large. I’ve been counseled, if I don’t slow down and be present, I just might miss it. So I sit and hit pause.

I remember Kaiden always. My first born, first one.

I remember when he took his first steps. Those baby fat dimpled fingers holding a mouthful of snacks. He wobbled shaky yet confident, and found a slow and steady path to meet me.

I remember the bike rides and the bubbles when the world shutdown. COVID-19 took a lot and it didn’t steal our joy.

I remember the time he made me stand up to the people at the theatre concessions that budged in line. I remember the anxiety quaking in my bones and even more, I remember the peace he felt after. Simple justice.

“The first place you learn to be loved, the desire to be loved, to have needs, to have needs be met or thwarted, to be protected or not, to be soothed or not, it’s all among the people who took care of you,” said Esther Perel.

Photo by Sai De Silva on Unsplash

I’m the type of mother who wants nothing more than to give my child a soft place to land. Somewhere to call home and know exactly what it feels like to belong. The feeling of just being.

Not only in a brick and mortar, four walls home kind of way, but something permissibly fluid yet sound. A rock, a foundation, a mother, a friend, and more.

I remember when we first started storytelling Kaiden adventures with an imaginary friend. The random retorts to the most chaotically curated mad libs. Now we script the plot and leave room for witty suspense.

I remember when he said something profound and I pulled out my notebook. He knew me and my journaling ways. “Write that down,” he said. I think it’ll make us rich one day.” Noted.

I love how he can see the world stacked and unstacked. A masterpiece and jagged edge. I love how he leads with courage, conviction, love and a heart-wide open to possibility. I love how when he falls, he knows he can cry, be comforted to try, and try again. He can dust himself off and try again.

No lie, motherhood’s been the most expensive hood I’ve lived in. If you care enough, you notice the tax is always rising — not like a bitter woe is me kind of fee but more like the inflation of a joy mounting abyss.

The reality, motherhood has cost me money, time, and relationships. It cost tears and pain. It cost hearts cut open and repaired again and again. Yet, living life with a cool kid like Kaiden is the wealthiest thing I’ve done all my life.

So yeah, the Mandalorian was right. Kaiden’s the one that saved me because raising him has also raised my bar of bravery and brilliance. I looked for him, I found him, and here we are on this here quest for life and love.