to their knees.
It started out a perfectly lovely day, BC made pancakes for breakfast. We gathered around the table to gobble down the food. The Kid's friend was dropped off for an overnight play date.
A classmate had decided to have an inaugural WebKinz meeting that afternoon - yes I realize you had no idea there were such things, well there really aren't; it was the spark of imagination of a little girl. The truth is I do not get the allure of webkinz, nor do I love the website games from what I have heard of them at deafening volume when The Kid spends time there. I did think it was a clever idea for a gathering that did not involve presents and time at a Chuck E Cheese type of place (again very little experience, I may have gone to one but I scrubbed any real memory from my brain of the event other than there was a lot of noise).
We dropped them off at a lovely house and proceed to giggle like school girls cutting school. It has never happened that we had a bit of free time on a Kid weekend. I tell you it was totally exciting - we went to Targee {tm}. Finally we got fun coffee drinks and sat in the car, wishing for a bit more time to run home for some serious grown up time, but there was only enough time to sip from paper cups and dream.
I never know what I should do in moments like this, but given the car I at least need to get out of it to let the kids in. Because I try to respect boundaries and not step on toes, I ask BC if it's okay, if I should come along. While their split is common knowledge by this time, showing off your new relationship is something else again. She assured me that it was fine so we stepped up the walk to enter a noisy and cozy house filled with children. Our girls were getting there things together, BC introduced me to the host parent and we chatted. The mom wandered to deal with something and a little girl, eight at most I would say, with mousy brown straight hair, very round watery blue eyes and a slightly narrow, pinched face looked up at me and said "Who's mom is that?"
For a moment the world froze and my heart stopped. It is not like I haven't heard that before but it's been years and years. Perhaps it was during the time I was trying to get pregnant, I don't remember. What I do know is this time was different. This time I had already tried to get pregnant, it hadn't worked, then followed an abyss of indecision and stony silence, finally a decision, of sorts had been reached. And now? Now I exist in the nowhere land. I am not a parent, but I am with someone who is, we are not in the state where the label "stepparent" is used or applicable. It was a bit of a panicked moment which I was rescued from by someone, I don't remember who or what was said. A response was flubbed or redirected, something.
This moment stuck with me for several days but I said nothing. It then faded away, submerged in the river of denial. Until yesterday, while doing my daily pages it suddenly turned up. This is the thing about this writing exercise, doing it everyday, even late in the day, without a plan, without intent there is no telling where your mind will take you if you just let things flow. This parent being that resides in me has nowhere to go; she just bangs around, walking in circles, into walls looking for somewhere to rest, looking for someone to nurture, to care for in that way. There are no animals to take care of, to snuggle in the night anymore. There are no doula clients to soothe, to support, to coo over. But there is this child who rightfully, reasonably holds me at a bit of a distance; who I hold at a distance, rightfully, reasonably. I have no name in this relationship, I may never.
In the meanwhile I will continue to try to find a place for that parent self that resides within and maybe she will not throw the panic switch the next time a random child asks that question.
Showing posts with label parents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parents. Show all posts
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Sunday, August 10, 2008
The other shoe does drop
Recently I had hoped Apollo the Magnificent counted as the third in the deaths that touched my life. TGF said she thought a feline didn't count, though I hoped it would. Over a week ago my best friend (human companion of Apollo) lost his father, after a long illness. I have met Greg's parents a number of times over our 20+ years of friendship. We have had many a long conversation about our relationships with our parents - the joys and challenges. His dad was not young, having just recently celebrated his 88th birthday, but still losing a parent is losing a person who has always been there.
Another friend and I were talking about setting boundaries with our parents and she said that doing so would wipe out the hope of something different. I suggested that it could also be viewed as opening a new door in the relationship. Many years ago I set very specific boundaries with my father and in turn, I now realize, it completely shifted our relationship. As I distanced myself and laid sharp, short boundaries in terms of time together, in some ways I got the father I had wanted as a child - one who spoke of missing me, of being proud of me, he became more expressive of his feeling towards me.
For a long time I muttered that it too little too late. That is still true in many ways. However I am learning to be grateful for the small pieces of the dream father that he is able to give me. I still yearn for that close relationship some of my friends have and I suspect I will always. We never stop wanting on some level the magical parent that we never will have. But once they die, we have less. We have a closure whether we want it or not, they can no longer change, once gone there is no way anyone but ourselves can fill that space that begs more still more. Only we can do the work that accepts, not loves, but accepts what we have in our parents.
Several years ago my father was in the hospital and the doctors where having a hard time stabilizing him. In the shower before a harried drive from Massachusetts to New York I sobbed; not because I was afraid of losing him but because I had no idea how I felt. Many years before I practically prayed for his death so I would not have to deal with him, in youthful foolish thinking that if he was gone my work would be done. Standing under the spray I realized that if he died, it would not mean that he would not continue to shape who was was, it would not mean all my issues with him would die as well. I realized over the course of the next few days that I had more control in how I handled the wounds, not him. I learned I would mourn him, I might even miss him but I would rally just fine and I would keep working on making peace for me.
Well that's what I say now. When it happens I may laugh remembering this post and my hubris about what I can handle. In truth we don't know how we will handle the loss of a parent. We can ponder, imagine, and hope; but there is no surety in these theoretical ponderings.
Another friend and I were talking about setting boundaries with our parents and she said that doing so would wipe out the hope of something different. I suggested that it could also be viewed as opening a new door in the relationship. Many years ago I set very specific boundaries with my father and in turn, I now realize, it completely shifted our relationship. As I distanced myself and laid sharp, short boundaries in terms of time together, in some ways I got the father I had wanted as a child - one who spoke of missing me, of being proud of me, he became more expressive of his feeling towards me.
For a long time I muttered that it too little too late. That is still true in many ways. However I am learning to be grateful for the small pieces of the dream father that he is able to give me. I still yearn for that close relationship some of my friends have and I suspect I will always. We never stop wanting on some level the magical parent that we never will have. But once they die, we have less. We have a closure whether we want it or not, they can no longer change, once gone there is no way anyone but ourselves can fill that space that begs more still more. Only we can do the work that accepts, not loves, but accepts what we have in our parents.
Several years ago my father was in the hospital and the doctors where having a hard time stabilizing him. In the shower before a harried drive from Massachusetts to New York I sobbed; not because I was afraid of losing him but because I had no idea how I felt. Many years before I practically prayed for his death so I would not have to deal with him, in youthful foolish thinking that if he was gone my work would be done. Standing under the spray I realized that if he died, it would not mean that he would not continue to shape who was was, it would not mean all my issues with him would die as well. I realized over the course of the next few days that I had more control in how I handled the wounds, not him. I learned I would mourn him, I might even miss him but I would rally just fine and I would keep working on making peace for me.
Well that's what I say now. When it happens I may laugh remembering this post and my hubris about what I can handle. In truth we don't know how we will handle the loss of a parent. We can ponder, imagine, and hope; but there is no surety in these theoretical ponderings.
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