Judgement Day

Over the last couple of months, I have spoken a lot about my youngest son, Troll 2.

And how could I not?

Troll 2 tends to walk into a room and take up all the space. He is impossibly tall, has feet the size of boulders, eyes that twinkle and a brain that just can’t switch off. Part walking encyclopaedia, part budding artist, to live in Troll 2’s world is to live in a universe where there is always something to say, always something to do and always something to get excited about.

Ever since Troll 2 started coming into his own, I’ve given up coffee. Because he is all the caffeine I can possibly handle.

But I am not just Troll 2’s mother, and he is not the only one who holds my heart. Years (two, to be exact) before Troll 2 bounced into my life, there was another. Another man, another love. The first man the 22-year-old me ever, really loved.

Troll 1.

When Troll 1 was growing up, I was wracked with anxiety about how to be his substitute dad. I didn’t want the absence of his biological father to hinder him becoming all the boy he could possibly be. I didn’t want to fail. As a result, I was tough on my baby boy. Tougher than most parents are on their kids. And much tougher than I ever was on his baby brother. I pushed Troll 1. I pushed him hard. To be stronger, faster, harder … If he fell, he did so without crying. Because I didn’t allow it. If he failed, he tried again. Because it had to be fixed. Because it had to work.

And if I couldn’t afford it, he worked for it.

That poor kid worked for everything.

He was a child for 2 years, and then had to jump straight into being someone else’s older brother and his mother’s eldest son.

Which brings us here. Troll 1 is turning 18 in four months’ time. When they say enjoy your children’s childhood because it’s over in the blink of an eye, they are really not kidding.

Troll 1 is a man now. But that is not the scariest thing I can say. This is: Troll 1 is the man now … which I made him.

The man I made him.

Oh.

My.

Good.

God.

Did I do the right thing? Did I raise him right? Did I teach him everything he needs to know? About being strong? About being weak? About life? About love? About right? About wrong? About being a man?

Troll 1 is going to be someone’s husband one day. He is going to be someone’s dad one day. A one day which is no longer so far off in the distance.

I am nauseous with fear, because … this is it. This is what my entire life, my entire identity as a single mom comes down to. This is what all the struggles, all the tears, all the fighting to keep it together, all the efforts to keep going … all the late-night prayers … come down to.

My baby boy is going to make decisions on his own now. Decisions about who he is. What he wants to become. Who he is going to love, and how he is going to love them.

And all of that will be a reflection of what I taught him.

That is how important motherhood is. There is no work in this universe, or any other, quite as significant.

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