Girl, everythings gonna be ok

In 1990 I once cried silent fat tears at 1 am while walking around and around and around my cul-de-sac, my newborn child strapped to my front in a baby Bjorn.  They dripped off my face and onto her hair.  She was a teeny-tiny little girl with dark hair and the most glorious skin, tiny seashell ears, and perfect pink lips.  I had no clue what I was doing, but I loved her.  She cried loudly, wailing into the dark cold air and thrashing around the way infants do when their bellies are uncomfortable and uncomforted.  And I walked, and cried, and walked, and cried, and she cried until she fell asleep.  I still remember the helpless way I felt while she cried, and the enormous strength I felt when she finally slept, at peace, curled sweetly into my chest, right on top of my heart.
I wanted to lose hope but I kept hoping anyway.

In 2017 that same baby, now a fully grown adult living on her own 3000 miles away from me, flew those 3000 miles just to hold me while I wailed into the dark, and in the daylight, in uncomforted heartache. She'd previously spent endless hours on the phone with me, anchoring me, centering me, and being my heartbeat.

This is how parenting turns out...so don't lose  hope.

In 1996 I cried multiple times over another baby.  This one a strapping 9.5lb boy who couldn't be fed enough.  Who cried incessantly and insistently.  This one a peach of a baby, a chunky weight that wore me out all while I was trying to be a mom to his big sister.  His eyes were like planets - huge and dark.  He was round and solid and gorgeous, like a warrior angel.  I cried, he cried, she cried.  For most of 2 years we all cried.
I wanted to give up.  But I kept going anyway.

In 2011 that same peach of a baby threw itself at some other "peach" to protect his baby sisters honor at school.  Even though he got in trouble, he would do it again. And I would support him again.
In 2012 that same peach of a baby was a 6 foot 2 inch tall teenager who tenderly held his newborn baby brother in his long lanky arms and didn't want to put him down.  He went on to, later,  be the primary babysitter to his 18 month old baby brother for a year so I could work in the evenings.
In 2017 he showed up, all adult-like with a suitcase and his sweet girlfriend, from an hour away, to stay over on a dark winter weekend with me when I didn't think I could stand another night alone and needed an adult to keep me safe from myself.

This is how parenting turns out...so don't give up.

In 1997 I rarely cried over the sweet little cubbie that joined her siblings.  Tiny cub, all dark hair and snow-white skin and hazel eyes as big as the sky... she was an enigma.  Different.  Quiet.  Soft and tender...my littlest bear cub was dragged along everywhere in my busy days and was cheerleader to her big siblings and was the quiet wallflower...until night fell.  Two years passed and she was still firmly rooted in MY bed every night...all night...  I wondered if she'd ever leave.
I thought I'd lost my will to try.  But I kept trying anyway.

In 2016, and 2017, and 2018, and even now... this grown up, employed, self sufficient, bear-cub of mine still visits me at night.  Not every night, but somehow it is always when I am the one needing it most.  She holds my hand when I cry.  She brings me ice cream when I don't even know I need it.  She takes my debit card and the grocery list and does the shopping when I am too worn out with working and parenting and stressing and fearing.  She makes me laugh until I cry, even when I think I don't have a single laugh in me.  She eats everything I cook, even when it's crap, and then does the dishes.  She takes care of her baby brother as if she is a parent.  She is, literally, my right hand...I mean, she's left handed so....

This is how parenting turns out...so don't lose your will to keep trying.

In 2008 I also lost my marriage, my house, my entire life.  But not those 3 babies... not their hearts, not their love, not their connections.

In 2012 I didn't cry for the baby born unexpected and surprisingly in my 40's.  I rejoiced.  I was glad and proud and enamored.  His tears and different-ness didn't phase me in his infancy.  I knew what to do, and I knew I could withstand the endless nights and the bellyaches and the co-sleeping. 
But it's different now in 2019.  He's different.  His tears are different.  And so are mine. 
Yet I won't lose hope.  I won't give up.  I won't stop trying.

If I remain a single mom for the rest of his life, I will still have his siblings to help me, to be a support, to be my reminders for hope, for effort, for the will power I need.  If I never have a two parent "family" to raise this last child in, I will still have a "family"... and my youngest, sweetest, most individual kiddo will still have a family... he will still have someone to turn to, role models to follow, and love to keep him grounded.  I don't know if he will be the one to visit me when I am old and incontinent and unable - or if he will be the one with the get away car - or the one with the secret stash of contraband sugar and alcohol - or if he will be the one footing the bill for it all while his siblings do the work; but I know this:  I am not alone.  Parenting is worth the hard work, the tears, the sleepless nights, the discomfort and exhaustion and sacrifice and self-loss...but it's also worth the discipline and the nagging and the pushing and shoving and modeling and mistakes and forgiveness. Its worth teaching THEM to forgive ME.  I make mistakes.  Big ones.  I screw up.  OFTEN.  But they forgive me.  So maybe I've done something right in this life.  Maybe I've done something even more than "right".  Maybe I've done something good for this world by not losing hope, not giving up, not losing my will to keep trying. 

Maybe everything will be OK after all.

2018 Recap

Once again I'm noting that it's been too long between blog posts.

Once upon a time I had a blog that I posted to daily, that I had followers on, and I was part of a community; a 'village' of souls who wrote and read and cheered each other on.  Once upon a time I wrote daily as a way to process life and all the curves and winding roads and darkness and brilliance that it has to offer.  Back then I had the time to notice, and then notate, all the noticings.  Now I'm lucky if at the end of the day, I get to notice whether or not I've worn the same pants more than 2 days in a row.  It always feel so good to come back to writing though, it feels like it centers me and ties up all the loose ends.  Sometimes its as if the act of writing creates sense out of all the experiences in any given day.

In March I noted that life was feeling more settled for both Griffin and myself even as I was already anticipating upcoming changes.

In May, I noted that it was going to be a wild ride, that I was "abandoning fear and embracing possibility".  I was right about that - it was, and has been, a wild ride since then.  Tumultuous, frightening, bumpy, exhilarating!  And the friends I've chosen to hold hands with on this journey have proven to be anchors and shorelines and shiny lights in the darker moments.  God has put them all into the little niche's of my life that they've needed to be in, at just the right moments.

In July, I noted that life was about being valiant, about being steadfast and balanced and grateful.  I alluded to struggles in my new job.  It's a work in progress, that whole 'valiant' life thing. *insert ironic chuckle and an eye roll*

As the summer ended I was able to reflect on (but neglected to write about) so many wonderful experiences and moments that I was able to spend with my youngest son, all because of my new job. This time while he is still little sometimes feels so fleeting even when the days sometimes drag on endlessly.  This summer allowed us time we needed to have for playing - just playing and adventuring and sharing time with each other and with my youngest daughter too.  Family time.  This summer was also time just for me.  Time to focus on myself - to go out with friends, to dress up and put on perfume and go on a 'date' and be a grown up - because I had the time available with the new job.  Precious time. I might have been producing less income and that was scary but I was so endlessly grateful that sometimes all I could repeat, over and over in my mind or under my breath, was, "thank you God, thank you God, thank you God".   Money will come, and money will go, but those relationships and the investment of time that I was granted, are irreplaceable.

Then first grade started for G and all that bumpiness and exhilaration, mixed with the need for valiant and steadfast behavior, splashed with gratitude and time, all melted together and we needed to slog thru the days.  We were getting into routines and making new ones and sometimes failing and sometimes rising above, with laughter, and tears all together.  And then it was the end of October, and nearly headed into winter.  G was a first grade boy with two missing teeth who sometimes forgot his lunchbox at school and I was working during the day and at home every evening and life felt...normal.  It was a sweet time for me that was only going to get sweeter.

November was all about balance, although that is totally in hindsight!  Every Thanksgiving since my divorce has been a struggle to redefine tradition and to create something of value and hope and love for my kids.  Funny thing about kids is that they grow and change and leave home and end up creating some traditions of their own!  This year we celebrated with a special friend and his children and mine all together.  There is an awkwardness to spending a holiday as a guest - food is different, expectations are different, and blending the needs and wants of so many people all at once for a holiday can be hard for everyone, even the kids.  This was so peaceful though!  We all had such fun with incredible food and desserts, and crazy board games and really getting to know each other.  It was an evening that left me feeling immensely thankful.  Later in November I was struck hard with the realization that I am pretty alone in this journey right now and it was a painful moment, a little dark spot that reminded me how strong I can be when I have to, and how much gratitude I have for my friends, the help from my older daughter, and my faith.  Balance, man... balance!

I never really feel like January is "the new year"... I always feel like the "year" is from the start of the school year and lasts until the next one starts.  So January is really just a matter of learning to write the new date properly!  Its a continuation of everything we started in September and so we keep plugging along, getting through the days and embracing the forward growth and the learning opportunities as they arise.  The dark and dreary parts of  winter are settling in now that the big holidays are over and we are a little resigned to the months ahead of cold New England.  I'm leaving the job I started last spring that allowed me to work during the day but was unexpectedly not a good fit for me.  In my new position, I'll be able to continue working days and will have better opportunity for additional hours and will be able to work with some old friends which brings me so much joy!  I am deepening relationships, with myself and with my faith and with others as well, and I continue to try and help my little guy grow into himself and to become the whole person he is destined to be. 

Like a lotus flower that blooms again each morning from the murky water, or the sunflower whose bright face follows the sun as it moves across the sky, I will continue trusting in the universe, in God, and in the continuity of balance in my life.