Mother, 36, and son, 19, say they’ll do anything to defend their love

I’m going to try very hard to not be dismissively pat and pootyheadedly judgmental about this situation, even though everything within me recoils as I read and think about this.

As a mother who has yet to reunite with my son in person (but we do correspond), I have had ample warning that compelling attraction has been known to happen between reuniting parents and children after being separated by means of adoption. For that matter, it’s not uncommon for sons to fantasize about their moms when they begin experienicng the mysterious phenomena of their budding sexuality. People don’t talk about it much, at all, but it does happen. No shame in it. It’s just biological processes. And often the mom will not ever know, but if it does become apparent, it doesn’t have to even cause a hickup in the relationship. It’s a matter of perspective and how it’s handled. Obviously, it is up to the parent to be the parent if something does become apparent along those lines. I say it’s obvious, but, apparently, it’s not as obvious to this mother as our society, as a rule, would prefer.

The very first thing I thought of when I thought of my own son was how I feel about the thought of my son falling in love. This New Mexico mother is actually taking away that normal process for her son, and, in the process, leaving him wide open to cruel being viciously reviled and bringing legal troubles on him just as he’s starting out on his odyssey into adulthood and learning about living life. I would become absolutely unglued, unhinged, all that, if someone put my son in that position! Just don’t even! To me, her approaching her son to tell him of “these feelings” is just plain selfish and it tells me that something interfered – big time – with her developing a sense of what it is to be a healthy and thriving adult. Something happened. Something got very, very broken and robbed her of the chance to develop and grow in that way. When I think of it in those terms, I can extend a certain, albeit reserved, sense of compassion for her. Something went terribly, terribly wrong with the functionality of her mother compass – not only with how she’s choosing to form a relationship with her firstborn child but also what she’s putting on the other children who were still living with her before the law stepped in. Clearly, she cannot or will not see past her own impulses to consider how it must feel to her other kids for them to find out that she would cast them aside, without hesitation, in order to carry on with this highly inappropriate affair with her son and their brother….all I can really say to thay is: broken mother compass – all over the place!! I can have compassion for her in that too, even if I find her choices to be incredibly wrong and her priorities to be horribly misplaced.

I do understand that a broken mother compass can and does occur when a woman’s baby is taken from her – even of she believes herself to be a willing participant in it in order to make an adoption happen for another family. I’ve seen it, over and over, broken mother compass, broken all over the place. It’s always painful and troubling to witness, but I completely get how and why it happens.

So i think about all that then come back around to the hopes and dreams I have for my own son. There is nothing more wondrous than falling in love – especially for the first time. My son is as deserving as anyone of that experience. It does my heart a world of good to think of that happening for him, and I already love the lucky lady who captures his heart and imagination… just so many things for him to look forward to, so many things my heart loves to think about happening for him, so much of life to be lived. I want every good thing for him – I guess even more than I want to finally see him again, for real, and not just in pictures. And I want that, to see him, pretty much every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day, more than anything else I have ever wanted in my entire life. But if I wanted it more than I wanted for him to experience life in the usual but unique way that he will, I’d have made that happen by now, fallout be damned. The thing is, his life is just that: his. He gets to decide what and who he wants included in it. It’s the dichotomy that is motherhood, in every form that it takes on: wanting desperately for one’s kids to be with her, like, all the time, while simultaniously rejoicing and feeling her heart swell with such immense pride at seeing them try out their wings and learn to fly.

Then I come back around to Clovis, New Mexico. I do not see that ending well.


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