On your Eleventh Birthday, Miss P.

One of the unpleasant truths of divorce is that we cannot always be with the ones our hearts beat for, even when we want to be. This is something we all have to accept in our lives, one way or another but I believe it is more acute for children of divorce.

In the last two years, we have learned to adopt a wiser understanding of this fact. We know, without question that when you love someone, the heart knows no boundaries, no timelines and no restrictions.

Tomorrow my oldest daughter turns eleven. It is hard to believe that its been eleven years since we first met. I won't be cuddling her in the morning as she awakes, but I will be standing by a few hours later to watch her riding lesson, to be present, as her Mother, despite unconventional circumstances.

As her birthday approached this week, I permitted myself to reflect, just a little on all that has changed since I first became a mother.
In those early all encompassing days of being a new mother, I got lost in the joy, sorrow, frustration and challenges that each day had in store for us. I cheered every cheer, wiped every tear, and reminded myself on the eve of her first birthday, as I willfully weaned her from my breast,  that love and motherhood truly are languages of letting go.

I learned slowly that the teacher of these life changing realizations was none other than this tiny human, who ruled my heart and soul in the best and most basic of ways. Through her and in her and for her and with her, I found motherhood. My life has never been the same since.

As our family divided I remember the sadness and fear that gripped me. How could I still be the mother I knew in my heart that I was meant to be, if I had to step back, let go, even more than what was called for at any given time.

The answer is simply that the heart knows how to respond. The heart knows when, how, where and why. The heart knows that our best chance of moving through such a transition with grace is to not to allow our minds to question what our hearts know.

As recently as this September,  as children returned to school, I felt those familiar pangs of guilt and self doubt that I had felt since my youngest entered school full time in grade one.

It took some time, but yesterday it all made sense to me.

As a mother, our babies shall always be our babies. Even when we want them to become more independent. Even when we fight with them a little about that. The push and pull is lifelong.
Weaning them and ourselves begins at the tender age of one, at least for Miss P and I it did.

I have let go of the fact that I no longer have toddlers afoot in my home and in my house 24.7. I have also allowed myself to acknowledge that even though I have some pretty sweet moments to enjoy while my girls are in school, I need to be on my game every moment of every hour of every day they are with me. This is full contact stuff, so its important to be on my game.

What I know now, for certain, is that a Mothers heart never tires, never distracts, never seeks alternative ways to fill that motherly cup. With this knowledge I have come to understand that whether its your first step or your first jump landed on the trampoline, , its a moment in which,  I will be standing by cheering you on, come hell or high water, despite any schedules or court orders.

I am your Mother. It is my deepest pleasure, my most resonating truth, and my lifelong joy to continue on this journey with you, Miss P.
God bless your sweet soul on the eve of your eleventh birthday.
How amazing is it, that I get to be your Mom.
#thankful #blessed

On writing again

There was a time when I wrote everyday. I wrote to remember, and I wrote to forget. I wrote to share with friends, family and like minded strangers, and I wrote to hold on, to myself , to my daughters, to  the everyday moments that get lost somewhere between sleep deprivation, and the challenges of  raising  a young family. 

And then one day I stopped.  

Below is the last entry to my once well read blog. This was written in June 2014 , in part. as a letter to my  eldest  daughter.

I won't lie - life got very messy for a while (as it often does) and there are many things that broke our hearts and stretched them and numbed them and changed them. 

Like bearings on a compass - we held on to the familiar, certain these things could help us to navigate in unfamiliar territory. We surrounded ourselves with friends, other families and lots of loving animals. All of this helped to create a new rhythm  for ourselves while everything was out of sync. 

My girls  - You are such amazing children, each in your own way. I hope you know that.

Miss P, It breaks my heart, that you have experienced the things you have to this point in your life . I know you are capable and have the heart to grow through it all.
Believe me when I express,  the depths of my love and concern for you.

I love our chats at night when you fight falling asleep - yes even when I pretend to be impatient that sleep will not come. I love when you share your thoughts and feelings and I have watched as you have learned to put them to words without fighting the emotions behind them.

I love when you speak your truth. Even when your voice shakes and I know how you see my imperfections and those of others we love with eyes of non judgement. 

There is very little in this life that fills me with a joy so complete as to hear you laughing from deep in your belly, all the more when this is happening in the company of your little sister. 

I have worried about you in ways you will never understand - and I have watched as you have fought your way through some very difficult feelings and experiences. As  children, you are wise beyond your years, and full of grace.

You also know how to dig your heels in and be heard, to fight for the space in which you 
can speak your mind. I admire your tenacity.

Watching you on a horse is something that fills me with an emotion similar to pride, but closer to awe. You are a vision of determination, control, compassion, comfort, ease, perseverance and grace. 

WOW! If only years down the road when you are faced with challenges and doubts, you could access those feelings, and know without question that you are strong enough, graceful enough, loving and compassionate enough to meet and grow through any obstacle life puts in your path.

Every morning when I awake I thank God for you and your sister,  for our health, for every blessing we share together in this life, for every difficult time we have overcome together, for every happy memory made and every painful one left in the past.

I am only human - an earthly being, and I am so humbled by being your Mother. 

This amazing task of raising you, learning and growing with you has challenged me in so many ways, to step outside of myself, to embrace both light and dark,  to acknowledge strength and weakness, to grow and grow and grow....

The best part is, I get to do this while holding your hand, tucking you in, hugging, kissing,  loving and laughing with you and your sister! 

My life is everything I could have hoped it would be, simply because I am your Mother.

On being whole

There is no delicate way to say it - ours is a broken home. To label our family as broken certainly implies that we are "no longer whole" - and it is this very definition that is turning my thoughts and stirring my soul today .

This is a weekend when I am neither with my children or at work. While rare and often productive - this kind of solitary weekend forces me to examine my family life as I knew it as I know it and as it is evolving.

It's been nearly two years since our children have had two homes. Though emotionally painful in every way - we were abundantly blessed to be able to keep as much the same in their lives as before. Same school, same home, same friends. Despite this, their growth and struggle through the process  was difficult to watch and challenged every part of myself, as I know it did them.

Even as an adult, those early months alone on days without them, hurt,  like an injury - like a gaping wound,  from which I was certain I would never recover.

I drank wine (no more than the average mother) cried a lot of tears, went for walks, spent time with friends while my children were in school - other mothers, mentors, angels, peers - those both further ahead and a little behind me in their journeys. I skied my butt off, went to counselling, acted brave and did a lot of yoga .

With grace and time, and to my surprise, those gaping wounds healed. I still had scars -believe me - but the acute pain of a new injury faded.

Old injuries can be funny and at times scar tissue can cause a phantom type of pain.
This phantom pain rises up in me when I am wandering through stores alone on the weekend (it doesn't happen very often) - knowing that my children aren't just at home for me to hug when I return - but that they are somewhere else living the other half of their life until returned to me, to our home, one of their homes.

It makes me think and rethink and turn over what it is to be divorced. From a child's perspective it is painful and anyone who tells you it isn't,  is simply not speaking the truth.

From a grown woman's perspective - it is painful. And anyone who tells you differently - also isn't speaking the truth. Even if we chose this.

Here is where my thoughts on "brokenness" diverge. Ours is a broken home,  but what I know now, is that I am more whole than I have ever been. As a Mother, daughter, friend, woman and human.

Do I think it is sad that a divorce is the mechanism by which I gained this wholeness? Absolutely.  In a way it is tragic. It is so far from what we plan for, hope for and as humans seek comfort in. I certainly wish there was a gentler process by which a soul could evolve - something less destructive, less emotionally violent for each of us.

Yet I know without a doubt that my daughters are wiser, more compassionate, all seeing truth speakers - than they ever could have been - than I ever was - until our family changed shape.

Pain can be an amazing teacher. When everything else crumbles, the greatest danger lies not in brokenness - but in allowing our hearts to be hardened by the effects of disappointment, fear, anger, blame, guilt, and imperfection.

Allowing our hearts to grow through pain is the antidote to brokenness and the pathway to being whole once again.