Every morning I wake up, look myself straight in the mirror and tell myself in no uncertain terms that today, TODAY, I’m going to just keep going and keep doing and not spend a bunch of time getting lost in my head and crying about things I can’t control.
Every morning I tell myself this and every day for the past week or so it makes no difference. I cry on and off anyway. Turns out I’m not that great at lying to myself on purpose, only inadvertently.
Is it lying? When you don’t look or recognize the truth? When I made the decision to leave my first husband, it was the scariest thing I’d ever done in my life thus far. I knew it meant leaving my children but I thought it was just for awhile. I told myself that going away for a time, getting well and then coming back and being able to be a mom was the right choice. I was wrong about the consequences of that decision when it came to my kids. I severely underestimated the impact it would have on the dynamics of our relationships. Of course, I didn’t know any better. I made a choice that saved my life and made it possible to be their mom at all. And that same choice pretty much ensured that I would never be their mom, in the sense that I longed for and made the choice for in the first place.
It’s like the worst case of ironic turn of play ever and I still haven’t quite come to terms with it. I expect my face will be blotchy and my eyes will be swollen when I wake up for the next few weeks like they have been for the past few weeks. I’m in mourning for this thing, this Mom, this idea of what it would be like that will not ever come to pass. By the time my children are old enough to make decisions about how they want our relationship to be, it will be something new and not what I imagined. It will be fine. It will be perfect and just how it should be. Just not what I was hoping, planning and working for.
I’ve missed out on so much of their young lives and I’m going to miss out on much of their teen lives. Here’s hoping I get to be included in more of their adult lives.
Hugs. I’ve been crying with my own personal struggles, but hearing yours makes me almost ashamed that I’ve let mine get me so low.
I can’t imagine what it is like to come to peace with not being able to impact how things turned out. I’m glad you looked for healing and I’m glad you were able to make your way “home” – even if that “home” had changed.
You are in a healthier place and are better for them and for you – and I see so much strength coming from you Leah. Your posts touch my heart. Sending you some lovin’ – H
This post made my heart ache for you. I have different circumstance (of course), but I wasn’t always the parent I should have been to my eldest daughter and I sometime grieve for what she/I missed and what should have been.
Now … well, I do my best.
You are always a part of them and always their mother. I hope you have years and years of joy with them.
I have the reverse situation. Getting to know my parent again has been weird. And great. And yeah, I mourn for what we didn’t get, as does he, but now is pretty damn perfect, if only because we finally have it – this connection.
If you *had* stayed with them and they had been on that long, long trip of yours, the rift might well be much worse and irreparable. Or, hell, you could have had no issues and they could have grown up distant from you, just because.
I don’t mean to downplay your grief, not at all, but I hope when you get to the other side of it, you can see so many ways to be their mom that are so, so fine.
I was reading this and feeling such sympathy for you, but when I got to this part: “it will be something new and not what I imagined. It will be fine. It will be perfect and just how it should be. Just not what I was hoping, planning and working for.”, sympathy turned to empathy. This is exactly how I felt when I found out that the Beaner was breech, and that I’d be having a C-section in 6 days instead of the vaginal birth I’d been steeling myself for, practicing for, exercising for, and visualizing for 9 months (well, really, it was longer than that, as I had to talk myself into trying pregnancy at all). It *was* OK. I got a beautiful baby at the end. But I couldn’t help but mourn for the birth plan that would never be. I cried off and on for four days before came to terms with it.
I imagine coming to terms with one’s entire concept of Motherhood changing at the last minute will take quite a bit longer. I hope Joe can provide hugs and support in person; the rest of us will be sending virtual hugs and support from afar.
So help me God, Leah, don’t make me crawl through the time-space continuum just to wrap my arms around you.
Oh, God. You are speaking to my soul today. I love you.
Lying to yourself never works, it just makes other people think your fine. In my experience. Then they (my husband) is all confused when he finds me weeping. You made the best decision for yourself, even though the consequences with your children suck. You are one brave, courageous, awesome motherfucker LeahPeah.
Your first paragraph is exactly how I’ve been feeling for the last couple of weeks. your last few paragraphs make me want to hug you, take you out for a drink, and revere you simultaneously.
i cannot help to think that you were and are the mom you wanted to be. perhaps some of the scenery is different which leads you to believe it isn’t *really* what you expected of yourself in your original vision of being a mom. you know how life is like that, you have a plan and if it steers off course, it’s shit. but it’s not shit. there is a higher self that will always prevail.
xoxo
you are brave…i am drawn to you…i want to know more of your story.
no matter what, you are your kids’ mother. they love you…you will always be a part of them. you are a person of great compassion and intergrity!
Keep the faith – you’re too special to be missed.
Your work was not in vain. When you hold on too tight to the results instead of the journey, you find the kind of pain you are in. You can release it by loving yourself for who you are and recognizing that almost nothing in life works out the way you thought it would. Usually, it is something better.
Here’s a secret: NO mom EVER is the mom she thought she would be or in the way she wants to be. Really. Everyone has expectations of motherhood. They are all pretty much shattered in one way or another.
But remember that none of the effort, pain and toil you put into getting to the point where you _could_ be their mom in the way you wanted to is going to waste. You are so much more now. Because you are whole and loving and thoughtful, you are wise enough to be who your kids need you to be and not force them into a role that would only drive them away from you.
Grieve for who you thought you would be, but rejoice in who you are and that you are a part of your kids’ lives–and they love you regardless of your perception of your role in their lives.
Really–your kids love you the same whether you are their “MOM” or their mom. Or buddy mom. You’re still their mom.
You did what you had to do to save yourself at the time. There was no way of knowing it would turn out like this. It was perfectly reasonable to think that you would be able to re-integrate back into their lives as their full-time mother. It must be devastating for you, and so frustrating because the very thing you should have the MOST say about, you have no say. Major suckage.
Intense pain. Sadness. Things you can’t control. I support you in crying all you like about things you can’t control. Anyway, I love your guts. And your face, blotchy or not.