I Am Wearing Stolen Socks

When does a woman become a mother?

I am wearing stolen socks.  Not because I haven’t any of my own, and not because they are an exact fit.  Only because they soothe my emptiness inside.  The owner of these socks I have robbed, will never miss them, they were tossed aside because of the hole in the toe of one.  I think they are perfect with this imperfection; it’s only an indication of wear and tear, something that defines us all.  They belong to my absent son.  I am amazed at how simple cotton can seem to fill the lonliness in my heart, as though it knows I need to feel closer to him, by any means necessary. 

 

I know it is only a pair of socks.  A pair he has left behind, unwanted.  But somehow knowing it once encompassed his flesh and warmed him makes all the difference in the world.  For I also at one time did the same.  The socks are much too big for me, the white fabric flops about my feet.  I smile; it seems like eons ago I was taking a black and white photo of his ten tiny toes to send with his birth announcement.  Yet my mind knows it was only mere years. 

 

When is it that a woman becomes a mother?  Science would tell us that it’s the point of conception, or when she comes to term.  I can’t help but wonder; it seems this is too simplistic.  After all, animals can conceive and birth yet not all of them stay to rear the offspring. 

 

Is it when she realizes that the life she has lived so far is no longer her own?  Is it by making the sacrifices needed:  staying up when they are sick, reading at bedtime, ensuring the essentials required.  Tending bumps, scrapes, broken hearts and dashed dreams.  Talking them through nightmares, picking them up from a party where they experience alcohol the first time, which is a nightmare of your own.  Then you remember you must have done something right because at least they called.

 

Or does a woman become a mother when she first realizes that this child, whom she would die for, will one day leave her for a life of their own?  That even though the child is of her, and she cares for them, the child is ultimately separate and must make their own way.  When she realizes that if she fights his battles for him she is robbing him of life experience, something he needs to progress and succeed in life. 

 

Is a mother born when the woman realizes that a little more each day, she must learn to let go?  No matter when the mother is conceived I know her role is never over, the grip of her hands never fully relax until she draws her last breath…

Reviews

[Stacey Watts]

This is a fantastic piece. I think this is the questions so many mothers ask themselves. There are so many different styles of women on how they raise their children. What's right, wrong or indifferent? I know when I adopted my son so many people still stumble over the term "real Mother". They will say stuff like, Was his real mother this away? Well it used to annoy me a bit and I used to correct them. Then I realized that they do not know what else to say when they have questions. But I think Mother and father is a term we all use so loosely. Motherhood is about caring and loving your child. I think any person that mentors loves and puts their time into a child becomes a mother. Maybe a mother in the sense of the word a mother by proxy. But then there are some women who are biological moms who do not raise there children. You are so right though. It takes a lot more to be a mother than just looking at the kid and saying I am mom. The heartaches along with the joys. The time and dedication. Staying up in the middle of the night and most importantly the way you feel as well as the child on the matter. Excellent piece. Sorry I rambled on.

[Warrior]

Great story telling. This did justice in the realm of getting the message across. Great message. There's lot of times where a story can have a great message to aim for, and have a lot of under lining things but then no one gets it, and if no one gets it, then the point has failed. But in my opinion this did well to get the message across. You made it clear, which is why I think it's good. Keep up the good work. What was also great was that I could imagine the story as I read it, and that is also a strong point of stories. The ability to have the reader imagine it because after all we're reading not watching it, but it was as if I was there as I read this, and that is great. Great visuals and great story telling. It had plot and substance. When you add substance to writing it gets that much better. It gets the reader hooked on it and make them feel as if they are part of it. As long as their is that emotional connection between the reader and the story then it's good. The connection you were able to established in the writing gives the reader a sense of comfortably that they are in tune with the writing. So that way when the writing is over, the reader wants more, and wishes it didn't end. I feel the same way when I watched a movie or tv series that I get so attached to, I never want it to end. And for this writing, I didn't want it to end. You had me hooked, and I am sure everyone else who read it was hooked as well. That is good, that is what you want for people to keep wanting more. The way you put the story together makes me feel like my life is different for that moment in which I read your story. I love it, and it was beautiful. Just keep posting stories like this, and you'll have a good following.

[Ellen Hammond]

The title of this one intrigued me. It seemed a bit strange for a 'motherhood' contest. But, your write is very profound and gives us lots to ponder. I gave birth to 4 children, but several others have told me I am a mother to them too. So, I think that it is not so much a question as to when motherhood begins but rather what it embodies. The ability to love and nurture can begin while we are still children ourselves and it grows with us.

Nice thought provoking musing, my friend.

[Patient Poet (Yos)]

I cant express my feelings when reading this one it reminds me another one on that subject that you wrote , you express it very well , asking the right question , and try to give an answer :) beautiful my friend

[THERISA]

"When does a woman become a mother?" A question, which humanity has been debating since the creation of a spoken and written language. Personally, a mother is a person, who is supportive, nourishes and knows when it's time to backaway. Allowing the child to take risks, in order to develop as a person. Always there, when a healing hand or ride is needed. Whether or not, she's the biological parent. And you, Tigra, are a mother, i would have wish to have, growing up. Thank you, for sharing this thought provoking story with us.

[Sean M. Addams]

i liked this ..very deep and well expressed...i thought you did a great job on this very heart warming and a soul touching piece.... awesome just awesome :)

[Jesse Przewoznik]

A very deep and analytical piece, posing a simple question that puzzles many of us; although I am not surprised that most of your current reviews have been coming from women, I think the concept detailed in this work can be appreciated by any reader. Portraying curiosity, thought, attachment - all in one character and in such a short span of words. Well done!

[RainyDay]

A really great piece. Perhaps...and this is entirely up to you, as a writer is the only one who knows the purpose and direction of her writing, but perhaps you could use this piece as a starting point for a novel or novella. Even a short story, complete with plot and developed characters (which I'm sure your obvious writing talent would make quite excellent attempts at!) would make such interesting reading teamed with such an emotional and evocative theme as yours? Again, totally up to you, but I, for one, would be extremely interested to see this brilliant piece extended even further....

A magnificent and thought-provoking work- you have great, great talent- which I thoroughly enjoyed. : )

[cest la vie]

As a mother to five beautiful people, I adore this piece..
beautifully expressed and written.:-)

[mick weller]

what a lovely thought-provoking piece... leaves me wondering just why you feel those socks to be 'stolen' rather than abandoned... maybe you feel as though you are stealing that small comfort now