Hard to get started on this one. Because I want to capture
in a single blog post. For myself as much or more than for the sake of explaining. I think it's time I wrap up the whole mess and tie it with a bow. Not because it's all done and dusted, or because it's chiseled in stone - but because where I've come from, where I'm at,
, is a new beginning of sorts. Not completely fresh, not entirely clean, but a starting point for the rest of it, at least.
This past year has been all about - figuring out where I want to go. At least, that's what I thought. That's what my internal ad agency wanted me to buy into, and I did, with a vengeance. I thought I was ready, for the next stage, but I was clueless about where to start. There is a whole world behind that, filled with never learned to dream Big about my life, but let's just say that by the time Summer came round, I was - disappointed & stressed out. In a way, I'm embarrassed to admit that I was stressed out by something so... selfish and quite vague to boot, but there you go - I was wrapped up in chaotic attempts at capturing the Meaning of My Life, getting angry at myself for not being able to just do it.
So I went to Africa. My inlaws live there, it was an extended family visit, not a dramatic journey to find my roots in the soil where life began - although at that stage, I would have paid a price for a meaningful retreat with a local Sangoma who'd figure it all out for me ;)
But the holidays were amazing, all on their own. Because I knew I wasn't going to find my Illuminated Path out there, anyway, I relaxed and let everything come the way it would. And it was beautiful! I saw that the world kept turning without me trying to spin it! I know it might sound dramatic, but I really felt I was accepted and loved - and I wasn't actually doing anything to deserve it! I'm sure that's been true throughout my life - as it is for all of us - but this was the first time I actually saw it, and took it in... And it led to all kinds of - insights about life, about me, about feeling instead of trying to control!
So we got home, eventually, and I was all eager and ready to start sorting my new from my old perspectives, and run with it from there, but then I got sick. Nothing all that serious, but annoying enough not to be able to get on with things and be all new! And sick turned into another kind of sick, which turned into another kind of not-quite-right, and when I finally found my feet again - after antibiotics, a root canal and two months' worth of taking-it-easy - chaos had put on a fresh set of clothes and was solidly back. I woke up from being sick after taking a long and winding detour - trying to find out where I want to go was a lot like trying to run before figuring out the bones of walking - to find my awesome three-year-old about to turn four...
I'd been denying and avoiding
that can of worms, ostrich-style. Because I wasn't ready to face it. And I still sort of against the odds hoped that the Universe would hold off. Hindsight, my detour might have been a run for a shortcut. To be ready. To be
ready-er. To be Me with a Certain Life; a dream, a meaningful goal, an end to work towards. A life that would immediately see good use for all that extra time - because FOUR (in the Netherlands) isn't just a birthday - it's a coming of age. For children
and their mothers... Four is - pretty much - the day my child goes off to
school...
Last Tuesday, my baby turned four. Beautifully, magnificently - wise, gorgeous, amazing & awesome - four. & there is hard ahead, in that. In letting go; sending him -
reluctantly, completely! - off into a world of his own where he'll weave his own magic fabric & face his own fears and triumphs. Where I take another,
bigger, step back - always there to catch, kiss & make better, but forced into the sidelines a little more. Less able to 'look inside his head', less able to know what's going on, less able to fix what isn't smooth...
I
know it goes with the territory of - raising a human being. Because that's what we
do, us mothers, in the end. Having a baby isn't about a baby, although it feels that way for the longest time. It's about teaching another human being to be ready for the world. & the better we do that, the more stepping back we need to do. There is beauty in that, of course, but it's
terrifying beauty when you're in the middle of it! Knowing that he's happily running away from you because you made him feel safe and confident enough to do so doesn't console when you're looking at his cute tiny backside & all you can see, all that drowns you, is the fact that he's off. Skipping, no less!
He comes back of course, with stories of his own to tell. And you're still a mamma,
his mamma! & you hope - more than actual
knowing - it will get easier with time. Because all your friends and people who care tell you it will. And you believe them because you want to, and the tiny - hindsight! - steps before got easier as well. But for now, for right now, the hole in your heart is so big, a world could pass through without touching the edges...
All of this wraps itself around
me, of course. Because my
baby is ready for this step. And on the outside, I'm cheering him on! Of
course I am! I remember from being a kid myself - new things are scary, but
exciting, and growing bigger is all you want to do!
But I'm left with a hole to fill. And along the way, since coming back from Africa, I've realised that - this year
isn't about finding out where I want to go with my life - it's about finding out who I
am. Who I've become. It's about seeing all that I've shedded and all that I've taken on - in bigger and wee little steps - to become the fallible but actually okay human being I am. It's about defining myself, starting with where I
am, instead of where I
was.
Because I came into being a mamma with a whole lot of bagage. I came from mud. I came from -
never enough, and
never going to be anything but a failure - all that, drowned in Chardonnay. And I grew,
with my kid. I am a world away from where I was before.
As a mamma. Here I am, on this threshold that looks like a mountain, feeling like I'm nothing
but a mamma. Like there isn't enough of me to fill all that kid-in-school space with things that
matter. It's exactly why I started this year thinking it was all about finding direction, when it's really, in the mud of things, about finding
me. I've been hiding inside the mamma.
Right now, I feel like I only matter in light of being a mamma. Because
before I became a mother, I was nothing. Nothing of much consequence, anyway.
& in the middle of all that thinking, feeling and crying -
so who am I, with this hole in my heart? - I found myself pregnant.
We've been trying for a second child for about 2,5 years now, swinging between failing to conceive and miscarrying (before you ask: we haven't seen a doctor about it yet. No. Because I used to believe in
natural, and in
accidents, and in belief, and trust, and hope, and in
it will happen if it's meant to be. I'm losing balance on that perch, but that's another story). Another can of worms when it comes to my identity as mother - because it's hard not to think 'if I'm so
good at being a mamma, why can't I be a mamma
twice?' followed by the crushing thought that - I might be a mamma before and
beyond everything else, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm
great at it! - eventhough I know, of course, that it doesn't work like that and it means nothing as much as it means
everything.
My miscarriage started on Sunday, the day of Isaak's birthday party. And I kept it together, sort of, not yet ready to let go. On Tuesday, his actual birthday, there was no point denying it anymore. There wasn't going to be a baby. Not
this baby, anyway. At 6 weeks, 1 day, I lost another dream. But I kept it together again, as much as I could. Because it was my amazing kid's birthday! Because Isaak turning 4, going to school,
that was meant to be my emotional sinkhole!
And it was, and it is, of course. My emotional sinkhole is - being a mamma. Not being a mamma. How much of a mamma I am, how I measure up. How far does my
mamma-ness stretch, and where am
I, beyond that. Stretching myself around that pregnancy - gingerly - thinking that I wouldn't need to find myself beyond being a mamma quite yet, and the
relief in that, too.
Life is as much about saying goodbye as it is about saying hello. I realise that. Life doesn't like holes, and as long as you don't go sit down in one, occupy it like you own it, it will fill itself with something else. Something meaningful, too - if you take care, are willing to see it for what it is. So yes, I'm open. I'm an open
wound, but
open, nonetheless. The gaping moment after
goodbye is terrifying - when you let go of something - especially when it's something you don't really
want to end; something you don't
want to lose;
someone you don't want to see
leave - and you're not quite sure, never
less sure of what it is you'll be saying hello to.
All I know right now, is that I'm saying goodbye to the
baby I nurtured to be ready for school, not knowing who we'll grow up to be, either of us, but open to it, with
heaps of love, knowing this 'in-between' will pass (and come again in various shapes and forms). And I'm saying goodbye to the baby I didn't get to hold. I'm saying goodbye to the
me who thinks she's nothing but a mamma, and hope to discover who she
is when that second skin comes off. And I'm holding this space - no matter how tiny it feels to be right now.
It's been cathartic, to write my story down. I'm weaving fabric here. The fabric of my human life. There is no point in construction - part of me wants to tie the loose ends and force the pattern to repeat - force the colours to match - but there is no such thing. Trying only keeps me spinning my wheels in sadness. I want there to be
space! Space to see the sights, space to find roads and detours. Breathing space. Space to find the wisdom in hindsight - not that which masks as wisdom, ahead of its time and place. Been there, done that, and it's never yet led me to where I truly live.
It would be too easy - no matter how it beckons - to tie loose ends to
make space. Because right now, I don't
see much space ahead. But it doesn't work. You can't outrun goodbyes forever - say hello to whatever looks promising, no matter what - just to embrace
something. There comes a point where you have to sit down and take your time with it.
It feels like I've been trying to outrun this while paradoxically sitting down with it at the same time - for
months. In the shortcut I tried to take, in the months of inflamations, and in the too-real things that happened over the past weeks. Like I've been holding my breath for a whole
year by now, only to find that
it didn't help, and I'm not ready, and I don't know when I'll get up again. But I will. I'm already in the process of getting up, although not quite ready to move on.
I think I'm ready to take on all that time ahead - the hours when Isaak is in school - and fill it with
not knowing. And to be
okay with not knowing for a while. I mean
really okay. An
open sort of okay. Not limited by frustration or a
need to know. I think, basically, I need to see who I am for who I am, and see what happens next. And draw some of it!
I hope you made it all the way to the end of this post, but if you didn't, that's okay. What matters to me, quite selfishly, is that I did. I'm here. I made it through to the end of it, and the end is merely a new beginning. If I let it be that. And I will. I'm willing and able and courageous enough.
