The Children's Advocacy Center of Jackson County

Category: Mothers

  • When a mom’s love is not enough . . .

    By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of The Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County

    Yesterday morning, as I dropped my seven year old son off at school, I had a “moment”. It probably was not unlike a million other moments, had by a million other moms.

    I was watching my son bound off across the playground; he turned around and waved good bye with a big smile on his face. And in an instant, I had this feeling of total and unconditional love and a second of panic as he turned and ran off. I watched my son almost in slow motion — his hair in the wind, his little feet and legs moving and then, in a fast sweeping moment, I lost sight of his face as he turned away from me to join his friends.

    I was caught off guard. I wanted to stop time. Stop all movement. He was growing up too fast. I was no longer with him 24/7. I suddenly needed him to know that my heart could explode with how much I loved him.

    I had tears streaming down my face…along with my mascara as I reflected that sometimes “that” love was not going to be enough to keep him safe.

    I reflected on how many of the moms that I have worked with over the years had that same love, but somehow found themselves in situations in which their child was hurt by someone trusted in their life. I sat there in my car for a full ten minutes watching my son play and thinking how lucky I was. I sat there in my car and vowed to always do what I could to keep my child not only safe, but keep him in the center of my world so I could see all around him to ward off any would-be unsafe people.

    I really think what is key is “keeping him in the center of my world”; not to either side, not as an afterthought, not when I have time, not behind me, not too far in front of me, but in the center where I can be present with him, where I can have a 360 degree view of his world and where I can put on notice anyone who may be thinking of trying to make my child unsafe.

    It really is the best tool in my tool box.

    My child is growing up and will be visiting friends in their home where I may not be with him. I am equipping him with the language to be able to talk to me and let me know if things do not feel right. I want him to know I am interested in what he has to say. I want his friends, his friends’ parents and anyone else around to know that I am interested in what is going on.

    I want your child to have the same thing.

    I use to be amazed when I worked as a caseworker with DHS when I would talk with parents who did not know their babysitter’s name or address or phone number. Many times they did not know who else lived in the house.

    I want you to feel empowered to ask the hard questions. I want to know I am not alone in asking the hard questions. If we all ask them, then they become a little less hard to ask.

    You may be asking, what are the hard questions?

    Here are a few to start with:

    • Do you have guns in the house? Where do you keep them?
    • Who will be in the house while my child is visiting?
    • Are there older kids there? Will they be left in charge of my child? Have they had any issues behaviorally or otherwise?
    • What are you going to do if my child wants to call me?
    • What kinds of programs will he be allowed to watch on TV?
    • What kind of access will he have to the internet? Who will be monitoring that?
    • What kind of video games if any will they be playing?

    And then I think you let them know you have talked to your child about if anything feels uncomfortable or if anyone asks him to keep secrets or if anyone tries or succeeds in touching him in any place that is private or that he does not want, that he needs to tell you.

    It does feel uncomfortable the first time you have this conversation. Your child will be mortified and embarrassed and that only gets worse the older they get.

    It will not be easy.

    But sometimes a mother’s love is not enough to keep a child safe.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Art and the Mother’s Touch

    By Michelle Wilson, Development Director for The Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County

    In honor of what would be my mom’s birthday this month, I am sharing a post I wrote three years ago on healing and the mother’s touch.   This could have been written now, with the references to the stories shared at this center and the healing that occurs here.  We now offer art workshops through our Building Bridges project and our therapists continue to offer a variety of types of creative therapies for hundreds of kids and teens each year.

    I am looking at a picture of my mom a few years ago on a trip to visit my sister in Colorado.  Beautiful flowers surround her and she has a relaxed smile on her face.

    I am smiling back at her this morning.

    My mother and the whole state of motherhood have been on my mind a lot this week.  I read a story the other day about a premature newborn who was pronounced dead, then was put on his mother’s chest and started breathing.  He is now 2 years old and thriving.

    A mother’s touch is pretty powerful stuff.

    My mom passed away a few months ago.  I was blessed to be able to spend the last several weeks of her life with her, along with other siblings.  During that time we talked a lot, when she wasn’t too tired, about the years we had all spent together and the years when life had us in different places around the country.  I have lived far away since I graduated from college and always hoped I wouldn’t regret living so far from my mom once she passed away.

    I have found, though, that I feel as if she and I were just as close as she was to my siblings living near her.  We talked on the phone a few times a week and saw each other at least once a year.  Our relationship was quiet, subtle, almost invisible because it was largely through phone contact.  But it was powerful, like the touch of that mama whose love helped her newborn breathe for the first time.

    It’s kind of like art, I realize, and the process of creating it.  The product may be powerful, with its own energy surrounding it, even if the process of creating it was invisible to the viewer.

    I think of Mom all the time now, dream about her.  Her touch is still with me, subtle and powerful, reminding me to breathe every day and take in all that is around me.  She invites me every day to choose life above everything and to enjoy every minute, every gift.  At night when I put my son to sleep, we say goodnight to her and to the angels.  I hug him very closely, wanting my touch to stay with him even when I’m not with him.

    This week was a difficult one at the Children’s Advocacy Center.  We heard too many stories of kids who have been hurt, most by family or extended family members.  We talk to each other about how it affects us, all of these stories.  And we talk about what we do to handle the stress and sadness of our work.

    The thing that works, it seems, is staying connected – to life, to what we love, to the gentle touches of the people around us.  I think of Mom to help me through.  I decide every morning to choose life and gratitude, no matter what is happening.  Her touch sustains me still.

    So many of the kids and teens who come to us don’t have this kind of memory of gentle, loving touch.  Most have memories of touch that harmed them.  In the mentoring program and in therapy and in all of our interactions with them we try to give them something of what they missed.  Something of the mother’s touch.

    Through the art program we offer them a way to choose life in the face of sadness and despair.  They create works that reflect their lives and their hopes.  Through the touch of the brush to the canvas, they can experience something they may never have had.  Through the kind words and support of their mentors and those who see their works, we hope they can begin to have memories that will sustain them, much like the memory of my mother’s voice sustains me.

    I choose to believe that we can do this, help them create an internal voice and memory that will help them remember to breathe when life gets difficult.

    I believe the mother’s touch is always there, something we can pass on to each other when needed, an invisible life force with a tangible energy all its own.

    We can do it through kind words, art, anything that helps to create the energy that can sustain us, no matter what we face.

  • Happy Mother’s Day! What I hope my son remembers

    Tammi Mother's Day collage

    Today is Mother’s Day, and so today I am reflecting on the last six years since I became a mom. Being a mom is the most rewarding, most exhausting, most scary, most wonderful job ever.

    I come from generations of what I call Super Moms. I always strive to be half the mom my mom and my grandmothers were. Watching them as I grew up, being a mom looked so easy. Now reflecting back after being a mom, I wonder how they ever made it through the day.

    My mom went to work when I was in fourth grade. However, I don’t remember her working. I remember her never missing a field trip. I remember always having homemade cookies in the cookie jar. I remember her being the leader of my girl scout troop or being my choir leader at church.

    I can never live up to that. The bar is too high. So I do the best that I can and I hope that when my son, James, reflects back, he doesn’t remember me not being able to make it on the field trips because of my work schedule. I hope that he does not remember that the first batch of homemade cookies his mom made him was when he was six. I hope that he forgets the yelling.

    I hope that he remembers that, no matter how tired his mom was, she was always able to listen to him read at night. I hope that he remembers that at Easter his mom always made sure he had an Easter egg hunt either at home, with his friends or at church. And some years we did both.

    I hope that he remembers that his mom had as much fun as he did at the zoo. I hope that he remembers that, even though it would make his mom crazy because all the Christmas tree ornaments would end up on one side on the bottom, she let him hang them there anyway!

    I hope that he remembers that every day, no less than one hundred times a day, she told him how much she loved him. I hope that he remembers that even though every time she cleaned his room she told him it would be the last time and next time he would have to do it himself, it never happened that way. She always helped him clean his room.

    I hope he remembers how she makes his dad crazy because she can’t throw away anything his little hands have made. I hope that he remembers that his mom would color, play with play dough, do chalk art on the sidewalk, build forts in the living room, run races, hunt for rocks, sticks and sea shells and dance crazy break dancing moves with him.

    I hope that he remembers that she not only let him stay in pajamas all day for “Pajama Day”  — but sometimes she participated with him.

    I hope that he remembers that when he talks — she listened. I hope that he remembers that there have been times that his mom has had very uncomfortable conversations with people in attempts to keep him safe.

    There is nothing that brings me more happiness than to hear my child tell me he loves me or “Mommy, you’re the greatest! Ever!”

    So in that spirit, I want to wish all the moms or maternal influences out there a Happy Mother’s Day! And tell you, “You are the greatest! Ever!”