I sat before my client Beaulah, she's a real gem to call on.
She's become a trusted friend, the older sister I never had. I held back tears as I shared where I was in my life at that moment.
I had come to the point in this instant family, that I resented the children without remorse. I resented their father for the decision's he'd made. I resented myself for choosing these struggles.
The past week stung
The previous Monday I sat in front of our youngest child's teacher. She was factual and direct about her concerns, almost expressionless in desperation.
"He's failing, he doesn't concentrate for more than a minute at a time", her eyes wide with anticipation.
I cried and cried in the car park as we left for the start of our day. The decisions his mother had made while carrying him were finally being felt. It stung like acid reflux in the chest of reality, a reminder of past mistakes every time I look into his eyes. I carried his hurt because he never chose this, neither of them did. Yet I stood crying for them, me, not their parents. Me.
Refusing to put him onto anything strong enough to alter his personality we found a short term solution and put him on a trial of scheduled medication for concentration. We have 1 month's supply of the stuff to prove ourselves and by we, I mean him.
The night I met Zelna
Zelna is a world reknown child therapist, psychologist and kids life coach. Her talk on assisting children found myself and dad at her workshop the same night we found out about our youngest child's concentration issues. I didn't mention the eldest, but he's snowballing his way right into 'juvie' if he carries on the way he's going. They needed help, so I wanted to start with us - because of finances that is - not because the kids weren't a priority, but perhaps if we could learn something new for a couple bucks, it would help us in the long run when they got the therapy they needed. I was beginning to lose faith that I would find the person I needed to assist with the therapy I wanted for them on the financial terms we could afford.
Beaulah listened with her eyes as she always does. She is so kind and caring this earth angel friend of mine.
"I've built a wall Beaulah", I said, "I can't imagine smiling, laughing or caring for them anymore. I've checked out!"
I had shared with her how our meeting with Zelna had brought about a change of perspective in me, how it had softened my hardened heart and made me realise that my walls needed to come down, not just for the kids but for my own sanity.
The only way out of this mess, would be to go back to where I started. Open my arms, open my heart, forgive and shine my light.
"Do what you do well with your children", Zelna had advised, and so I decided to share my gifts and talents with them and let them back into my world.
My world had peace once. It had transparency and joy. Somewhere along the line the walls had become so high that I couldn't see my own light.
Beaulah continued to listen, her kind words and tender advice echoed my hearts desires for laughter and serenity to be returned to our home. "It starts with you, your time with them, your one on one moments together", she explained, "you just need love, share your time and let those walls come down. These are the moment's that will not only make the difference now, but will be treasured forever!"
Yes, I felt guilty. I felt like I'd forgotten how to love to the point of being blind to what was really needed in our home. My maternal instincts, my humanity and my authentic self had flown out the window because of my anger and resentment, twisting a vine of animosity around my heart and suffocating my soul.
Beaulah smiles at me and whispers, "If anyone can love those children the way they need to be loved, it's you!" And I smiled back because I knew she was right.
We have since found a therapist and the children will commence emotional support and play therapy within the next 2 weeks. Anything can happen when you want it badly enough, and all I want for them is more than they will know.
Showing posts with label guilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guilt. Show all posts
Monday, 9 May 2016
Wednesday, 13 January 2016
Nothing changes, if nothing changes
So here we are, 2016!
To be honest with you, I imagined a more space aged era, one with a lot more tin foil and a lot less like it is now. Needless to say, it's a new year with a new set of goals and perspectives.
I found my peace
If you're regularly following this blog, you'll note one of two things.
1. It's not that regular.
2. I've been really, really angry.
The good news is that after adjusting, fighting within myself, resenting these kids, and acting like a complete psycho during it all, I found a new understanding and perspective when I decided I needed help.
So, December last year, I lugged myself off to a Life Coach. I had found a special deal online through Meetup.com (a free, community based meeting place for people wanting to spend time with like minded people from any form of life/sport/hobby you can think of in your area) and on Saturday the 18th of December 2015, I found myself sitting in the home of this Life Coach with the mindset that I didn't attend for answers to a specific question, I just wanted to better myself in general. Or that's at least what I believed.
Changing perspective
As I sat listening to these other 2 ladies who were in attendance talk about their problems, I realised I wasn't really applying my real issues (with the kids and my instant motherhood thing) to the coaching. I was pretty happy with my life in general and kinda nodded through the information because it didn't apply - until I applied it to my frustrations at home.
Let me tell you that when I allowed myself to address it all, a tidal wave of emotion came from my gut and pushed it's way through past my throat where I was holding it all down. Everything, and I mean everything came out of me, through my eyes and from the depths of my soul. A year and a half of tears flowed from my face, a box of tissues and three wide-eyed woman sat sympathetically in front of me. I had nothing to be grateful for, I felt angry, used, depressed and tired.
In that moment, the Life Coach had presented me with a question that turned into a dialogue that lead to my breakthrough.
Life Coach (LC) "What benefits are there in being in these children's lives and with your partner in this role?"
Me: "None"
LC: "There must be something?"
Me: "Nope, there are NO benefits"
LC: "Try think of at least 1 benefit of where you're currently at"
Me: "I guess I get to build two small children into whole people, if they stayed with their mother, they would be exposed to drugs, alcohol and a state of mind that wouldn't really help them be the best adults."
LC: "And how important is it to you, that you build up two strong adults."
Me: "Not that important" (Insert awkward silence here)
LC: "Ok, give me another benefit"
Me: "I guess they are teaching me patience and how to be a good mom"
LC: "And how important is that to you?"
Me: "Average, I guess, I really want to be a good mom but if they weren't in my life I wouldn't have to do this all."
LC: "And what else?"
Me: "They are preparing me for motherhood, for my own children, I also get to be with the love of my life, my soulmate, my person."
LC: "And how important is it that you're prepared for your own children and get to be with your soulmate?"
Me: "Non negotiable!"
And just then, my Aha! seed was planted, which germinated over the following weeks and somehow, somewhere along the line, I let go of resentment and allowed myself to love these two boys without conditions, without the regret's from the past.
One of the biggest lessons I've learned is that I had unfinished business. I felt responsible for where I am today because I had chosen to terminate a teen pregnancy, which would have in turn lead to the non existence of these two boys. I felt angry and bitter because of a lack of accountability on their mother's part to participate or contribute to their lives in any shape or form. I felt as if I was picking up the pieces of her broken life, left to fix what she had damaged. I didn't want her stuff, I wanted my own happy, healthy and whole life which included two Labrador's and a picket fence!
While I mulled over my regrets and guilt, I found a diary from my high school years and into my early 20's. As I read all the drama between those two covers, I realised that I wouldn't have been ready for commitment or for a significant long term contribution to any relationship, let alone the one I'm in now, the one that matters the most. The string of poor choices I made in men thereafter was proof of where I was at, and my significant other was busy living his life with his drama while he learned all his lessons in tandem with my own. The timing was never right and now I realise, everything for a reason. Today we are both ready, focused, on the same page and crystal clear about where we are going, as individuals, as parents and as a team. We are in love, bonded and share a love that I've never, ever experienced before. It was worth the wait!
I was a green, immature and very lost soul at 22, let alone the thought of carrying and raising a child at 17 all those years before. I let go of the guilt and regret, and I've accepted that this is how life is. Love, is letting go of fear - and in deciding to embrace this and step up, I've freed myself from the chains of my past.
Life isn't a linear experience, there's not black or white. There will be days of grey and moments of frustration, but there is no right or wrong just choices with their own set of consequences. Life is, just what it is, and happiness comes from being where you are right now and making the best of the place you're in even when you aren't ready, aren't happy and don't know what's coming next.
So, the fact is, these two boys have never been the cause of my resentment, they have never been the cause of my guilt. They have merely been a catalyst for change and acceptance within myself. They have forced me to deal with 16 years of suppressed, teenage baggage and set me free from myself. Now that I'm passed my lesson, I'm free to be my happy self again and believe me, they are on the receiving end of a fun, lighter and far more grateful person than the woman I was last year.
Thank you!
To be honest with you, I imagined a more space aged era, one with a lot more tin foil and a lot less like it is now. Needless to say, it's a new year with a new set of goals and perspectives.
I found my peace
If you're regularly following this blog, you'll note one of two things.
1. It's not that regular.
2. I've been really, really angry.
The good news is that after adjusting, fighting within myself, resenting these kids, and acting like a complete psycho during it all, I found a new understanding and perspective when I decided I needed help.
So, December last year, I lugged myself off to a Life Coach. I had found a special deal online through Meetup.com (a free, community based meeting place for people wanting to spend time with like minded people from any form of life/sport/hobby you can think of in your area) and on Saturday the 18th of December 2015, I found myself sitting in the home of this Life Coach with the mindset that I didn't attend for answers to a specific question, I just wanted to better myself in general. Or that's at least what I believed.
Changing perspective
As I sat listening to these other 2 ladies who were in attendance talk about their problems, I realised I wasn't really applying my real issues (with the kids and my instant motherhood thing) to the coaching. I was pretty happy with my life in general and kinda nodded through the information because it didn't apply - until I applied it to my frustrations at home.
Let me tell you that when I allowed myself to address it all, a tidal wave of emotion came from my gut and pushed it's way through past my throat where I was holding it all down. Everything, and I mean everything came out of me, through my eyes and from the depths of my soul. A year and a half of tears flowed from my face, a box of tissues and three wide-eyed woman sat sympathetically in front of me. I had nothing to be grateful for, I felt angry, used, depressed and tired.
In that moment, the Life Coach had presented me with a question that turned into a dialogue that lead to my breakthrough.
Life Coach (LC) "What benefits are there in being in these children's lives and with your partner in this role?"
Me: "None"
LC: "There must be something?"
Me: "Nope, there are NO benefits"
LC: "Try think of at least 1 benefit of where you're currently at"
Me: "I guess I get to build two small children into whole people, if they stayed with their mother, they would be exposed to drugs, alcohol and a state of mind that wouldn't really help them be the best adults."
LC: "And how important is it to you, that you build up two strong adults."
Me: "Not that important" (Insert awkward silence here)
LC: "Ok, give me another benefit"
Me: "I guess they are teaching me patience and how to be a good mom"
LC: "And how important is that to you?"
Me: "Average, I guess, I really want to be a good mom but if they weren't in my life I wouldn't have to do this all."
LC: "And what else?"
Me: "They are preparing me for motherhood, for my own children, I also get to be with the love of my life, my soulmate, my person."
LC: "And how important is it that you're prepared for your own children and get to be with your soulmate?"
Me: "Non negotiable!"
And just then, my Aha! seed was planted, which germinated over the following weeks and somehow, somewhere along the line, I let go of resentment and allowed myself to love these two boys without conditions, without the regret's from the past.
One of the biggest lessons I've learned is that I had unfinished business. I felt responsible for where I am today because I had chosen to terminate a teen pregnancy, which would have in turn lead to the non existence of these two boys. I felt angry and bitter because of a lack of accountability on their mother's part to participate or contribute to their lives in any shape or form. I felt as if I was picking up the pieces of her broken life, left to fix what she had damaged. I didn't want her stuff, I wanted my own happy, healthy and whole life which included two Labrador's and a picket fence!
While I mulled over my regrets and guilt, I found a diary from my high school years and into my early 20's. As I read all the drama between those two covers, I realised that I wouldn't have been ready for commitment or for a significant long term contribution to any relationship, let alone the one I'm in now, the one that matters the most. The string of poor choices I made in men thereafter was proof of where I was at, and my significant other was busy living his life with his drama while he learned all his lessons in tandem with my own. The timing was never right and now I realise, everything for a reason. Today we are both ready, focused, on the same page and crystal clear about where we are going, as individuals, as parents and as a team. We are in love, bonded and share a love that I've never, ever experienced before. It was worth the wait!
I was a green, immature and very lost soul at 22, let alone the thought of carrying and raising a child at 17 all those years before. I let go of the guilt and regret, and I've accepted that this is how life is. Love, is letting go of fear - and in deciding to embrace this and step up, I've freed myself from the chains of my past.
Life isn't a linear experience, there's not black or white. There will be days of grey and moments of frustration, but there is no right or wrong just choices with their own set of consequences. Life is, just what it is, and happiness comes from being where you are right now and making the best of the place you're in even when you aren't ready, aren't happy and don't know what's coming next.
So, the fact is, these two boys have never been the cause of my resentment, they have never been the cause of my guilt. They have merely been a catalyst for change and acceptance within myself. They have forced me to deal with 16 years of suppressed, teenage baggage and set me free from myself. Now that I'm passed my lesson, I'm free to be my happy self again and believe me, they are on the receiving end of a fun, lighter and far more grateful person than the woman I was last year.
Thank you!
Wednesday, 12 August 2015
The day my flame went out
It's been a while I know.
I was carrying on as normal with a slight bout of laryngitis last week, nothing unfamiliar to me, especially when I spend enough time around smokers at social events that my job requires me to be at.
The day before, I had found myself in tears at my office boardroom. A conflict with an overly pretentious colleague had us face to face and I wasn't in the mood to play. My usually diplomatic and peaceful temperament had left the building while my frustration whipped within me. This was, for a lack of a better explanation, an intervention brought on by my Director after a disgruntled phone call I had made earlier that day. My internal pressure cooker was working overtime, I could feel it building within me. I am not this person.
Watershed
For the first time in my adult life and in all my years in the corporate world, I couldn't stop crying. It may have seemed like a ploy to "turn on the waterworks" to gain sympathy in any other circumstance, but my heart was genuinely breaking and none of it had to do with my immediate situation. Months of frustration seemed to escape from my eyeballs, leaving everyone incredibly sympathetic to 'how badly I had taken the confrontation'. If only they knew, if only I knew what was really going on deep inside me, but all was to be revealed within the next 24 hours despite my ignorance.
The next morning my voice has dissipated to a croak and I had scheduled an appointment with my GP. Nipping this sniffle in the bud sooner rather than later, would be the difference between a slight sinus infection and full blown pneumonia which I'm very susceptible to, especially when my immune system has been compromised by internal stress. Your body is your compass and it's never wrong.
As I prepared for the day, I stood in the shower as the water ran down my face, my back and between my toes. I could literally feel the knot in my throat force it's way up and down my esophagus as I literally tried to swallow my pent up frustrations like a thick, dry paste. In that moment, I allowed myself to release it all. Please note the permission I had to grant myself to acknowledge my wits end, the permission to feel.
Months of resentment, frustration, chaos. Nothing really made sense, I had taken on Goliath and lost. I felt defeated and depleted with nothing more to give. I had taken on these children, their father, his baggage, their baggage, their close to psychotic mother who had contributed nothing, demanded everything and got away with it all and made it my own. I had the best intentions for them, for us. I was going to be the hero without actually trying to save anyone.
The debt had piled up. Dad didn't have cash, how could he when he was paying for the children's necessities, school fees and after care. He was relying on me for everything else, they were relying on me. I was the bank, the grocery provider, the one ensuring lunches were made with bread I had purchased. I was the entertainment, the provider of lunchbox luxuries and Sunday afternoon ice cream treats. I provided clothing, stationery, school books and toiletries. I made doctors appointments for overdue check ups and paid for medications they needed. I was the provider of multivitamins, new school socks and birthday presents. Even in the midst of our Saturday night card games , the ex messages us with sinister and ominous messages of manipulation. Is there no rest for the wicked. Is this my life.
I was done, exhausted, finished and the saddest part is that I didn't even realise it until I was face to face with the truth that came in the form of a medical practitioner I had never met.
My wake up call
As I got to the doctors room, I sat in the waiting room battling to withhold relentless tears that failed to cease from my swollen eyes. It was as if I had released a valve that connected my heart to my face and purged a torrent of salty resentment, fear, loss, hurt and guilt. I was cracking up.
I hadn't even made it back from the toilet visit I had made to blow my nose, when the doctor I was seeing (and never met before) guessed that I was her next patient. Most of the consultation was a blur but what I do recall I won't ever forget.
"By the sounds of things, you've got a lot on your plate. You've reached rock bottom, burn out my dear". She referred to my incessant shaking as 'adrenal fatigue', and then promptly prescribed a shopping list of medications to get me through as well as a contact number for a therapist. Above the IV bag containing a cocktail of vitamins and immune boosters, the most poignant message was that I needed to talk to someone, I needed support - real support. Although surrounded by moral support, I was doing this alone.
She had hit the nail on the head, I'd been feeling my way through this step mother process, completely in the dark and in unfamiliar surroundings that I've referred to and proudly embraced as my new life. I needed help, and while I had parents and friends that were supportive in their own way, no one could really save me from my own conflicts. This was a medley of toxic waste that was poisoning my soul.
The road to recovery
Parenting isn't easy and while I was feeling alone, dad finds himself in the docs office today after days of a weekend of migraines and blurred vision. Something is different and with enough nagging we get an appointment for him to see someone with immediate effect. The diagnosis is anxiety and stress induced hypertension (of course it is *rolls eyes*). We really have taken an emotional beating and neither of us even saw it coming. How the hell did we manage to crash and burn within a week of each other. What happened to the fun and the laughter and the best years of our lives. This is a living hell.
But the road to recovery is knowing what to take on and what simply isn't your battle. I've realised that even though I love these children, they are not my blood. I have bent over backwards, borrowed money, extended overdrafts and provided where their mother simply fails to do so. Often I wonder if she see's full custody as a way and means of gaining funds for her own personal interests.
I refuse to give any more 'airtime' to a woman that wants to play games, manipulate and break us down while we give 110% to 2 small children that have no idea how to express gratitude let alone comprehend the sacrifices I've made for them. Gourmet lunches prepped at night, school photographs purchased for their benefit, collection from school on the days that dad is running late and then fuel for his car that he cannot afford because he's stretched so thin financially. How is this fair, any of it.
We have but one life and it's has been overrun with anxieties and stresses that aren't even mine to start with. This is not my family, they are not my responsibility, yet I choose to provide, care, love. Does this make me a martyr? Do I care too much?
Perhaps I'm living through my own guilt, childhood issues and hurts by moving heaven and earth for two little beings that were strangers to me 12 months ago. But watch this space, I've got a game plan and I'm getting my life back!
In the meantime, there are tranquilizers, a week off work and a partner whose love makes it all worthwhile. We'll get through this, we'll figure it all out. Everything is already okay.
Love, my motivation and my undoing.
I was carrying on as normal with a slight bout of laryngitis last week, nothing unfamiliar to me, especially when I spend enough time around smokers at social events that my job requires me to be at.
The day before, I had found myself in tears at my office boardroom. A conflict with an overly pretentious colleague had us face to face and I wasn't in the mood to play. My usually diplomatic and peaceful temperament had left the building while my frustration whipped within me. This was, for a lack of a better explanation, an intervention brought on by my Director after a disgruntled phone call I had made earlier that day. My internal pressure cooker was working overtime, I could feel it building within me. I am not this person.
Watershed
For the first time in my adult life and in all my years in the corporate world, I couldn't stop crying. It may have seemed like a ploy to "turn on the waterworks" to gain sympathy in any other circumstance, but my heart was genuinely breaking and none of it had to do with my immediate situation. Months of frustration seemed to escape from my eyeballs, leaving everyone incredibly sympathetic to 'how badly I had taken the confrontation'. If only they knew, if only I knew what was really going on deep inside me, but all was to be revealed within the next 24 hours despite my ignorance.
The next morning my voice has dissipated to a croak and I had scheduled an appointment with my GP. Nipping this sniffle in the bud sooner rather than later, would be the difference between a slight sinus infection and full blown pneumonia which I'm very susceptible to, especially when my immune system has been compromised by internal stress. Your body is your compass and it's never wrong.
As I prepared for the day, I stood in the shower as the water ran down my face, my back and between my toes. I could literally feel the knot in my throat force it's way up and down my esophagus as I literally tried to swallow my pent up frustrations like a thick, dry paste. In that moment, I allowed myself to release it all. Please note the permission I had to grant myself to acknowledge my wits end, the permission to feel.
Months of resentment, frustration, chaos. Nothing really made sense, I had taken on Goliath and lost. I felt defeated and depleted with nothing more to give. I had taken on these children, their father, his baggage, their baggage, their close to psychotic mother who had contributed nothing, demanded everything and got away with it all and made it my own. I had the best intentions for them, for us. I was going to be the hero without actually trying to save anyone.
The debt had piled up. Dad didn't have cash, how could he when he was paying for the children's necessities, school fees and after care. He was relying on me for everything else, they were relying on me. I was the bank, the grocery provider, the one ensuring lunches were made with bread I had purchased. I was the entertainment, the provider of lunchbox luxuries and Sunday afternoon ice cream treats. I provided clothing, stationery, school books and toiletries. I made doctors appointments for overdue check ups and paid for medications they needed. I was the provider of multivitamins, new school socks and birthday presents. Even in the midst of our Saturday night card games , the ex messages us with sinister and ominous messages of manipulation. Is there no rest for the wicked. Is this my life.
I was done, exhausted, finished and the saddest part is that I didn't even realise it until I was face to face with the truth that came in the form of a medical practitioner I had never met.
My wake up call
As I got to the doctors room, I sat in the waiting room battling to withhold relentless tears that failed to cease from my swollen eyes. It was as if I had released a valve that connected my heart to my face and purged a torrent of salty resentment, fear, loss, hurt and guilt. I was cracking up.
I hadn't even made it back from the toilet visit I had made to blow my nose, when the doctor I was seeing (and never met before) guessed that I was her next patient. Most of the consultation was a blur but what I do recall I won't ever forget.
"By the sounds of things, you've got a lot on your plate. You've reached rock bottom, burn out my dear". She referred to my incessant shaking as 'adrenal fatigue', and then promptly prescribed a shopping list of medications to get me through as well as a contact number for a therapist. Above the IV bag containing a cocktail of vitamins and immune boosters, the most poignant message was that I needed to talk to someone, I needed support - real support. Although surrounded by moral support, I was doing this alone.
She had hit the nail on the head, I'd been feeling my way through this step mother process, completely in the dark and in unfamiliar surroundings that I've referred to and proudly embraced as my new life. I needed help, and while I had parents and friends that were supportive in their own way, no one could really save me from my own conflicts. This was a medley of toxic waste that was poisoning my soul.
The road to recovery
Parenting isn't easy and while I was feeling alone, dad finds himself in the docs office today after days of a weekend of migraines and blurred vision. Something is different and with enough nagging we get an appointment for him to see someone with immediate effect. The diagnosis is anxiety and stress induced hypertension (of course it is *rolls eyes*). We really have taken an emotional beating and neither of us even saw it coming. How the hell did we manage to crash and burn within a week of each other. What happened to the fun and the laughter and the best years of our lives. This is a living hell.
But the road to recovery is knowing what to take on and what simply isn't your battle. I've realised that even though I love these children, they are not my blood. I have bent over backwards, borrowed money, extended overdrafts and provided where their mother simply fails to do so. Often I wonder if she see's full custody as a way and means of gaining funds for her own personal interests.
I refuse to give any more 'airtime' to a woman that wants to play games, manipulate and break us down while we give 110% to 2 small children that have no idea how to express gratitude let alone comprehend the sacrifices I've made for them. Gourmet lunches prepped at night, school photographs purchased for their benefit, collection from school on the days that dad is running late and then fuel for his car that he cannot afford because he's stretched so thin financially. How is this fair, any of it.
We have but one life and it's has been overrun with anxieties and stresses that aren't even mine to start with. This is not my family, they are not my responsibility, yet I choose to provide, care, love. Does this make me a martyr? Do I care too much?
Perhaps I'm living through my own guilt, childhood issues and hurts by moving heaven and earth for two little beings that were strangers to me 12 months ago. But watch this space, I've got a game plan and I'm getting my life back!
In the meantime, there are tranquilizers, a week off work and a partner whose love makes it all worthwhile. We'll get through this, we'll figure it all out. Everything is already okay.
Love, my motivation and my undoing.
Sunday, 17 May 2015
Broody, Guilty, Mad
Since I took on this instant family feat, everyone has been a critic.
My own father brazenly chirped in the beginning that I had chosen this life and that I should live with it. Clearly he had forgotten that he took on my mother who had 3 young boys when she married him.
So I haven't been honest about something, yep, I have a dirty secret.
Seeing as this is a nameless, faceless blog, I'm happy to release my burdens to the world without any real repercussions.
Broody - Prima Donna Me
So I never thought I'd say this but I offered to put a child to sleep, rock him to be exact, while at a braai with friends. The baby was a stranger, so were his parents. But, I offered. Offered. Seeing that we're being honest with each other, let me tell you that I just wanted to feel what it was like to entirely be in the moment of inconvenient motherhood - and I think I'm ready, really ready for a child of my own.
Ask me a year ago and I would have told you that broodiness is natures way of tricking you into conceiving a child - can you say jaded, but the reason will follow. There I stood smiling like the world had just blessed me with a thousand gifts of emotional bliss. His little head rested on the bend of my forearm as I gently swayed him to sleep, rhythmically tapping on his bum and humming ever so quietly to myself. Perhaps a neon sign had erected itself above my head, as a stranger at the braai yelled over to me, "Broody aren't you!"
I was crushed that I had been caught out while relishing in private, and yet there it was for all to see, quite publicly it seems. (Note to self: Work on poker face)
Previously, there was a very palpable annoyance that I experienced when it came to the challenge of putting a child to sleep. I'm sure there are many parents out there scoffing as they read this, thinking "My God, she's got NO idea what it's like to accept that challenge at 01:30 am after 2 hours of sleep!" and maybe they're right. But, right now, I'm yearning for this, albeit the serious guilt, remorse, sadness and a hint of anger I feel about the following dirty secret.
Guilty - My dirty secret
What I haven't told you is that daddy and I met 16 years ago. He was my first love and I was his. I didn't know then what I know now. Firstly that he reciprocated the cocktail of (slightly obsessed) emotion that I felt for him and secondly that we would share the next 16 years together, in one way or another.
How could I have known, I was 17, as ignorant as they came and he had a reputation as a player. Such a "hardcore" reputation that it only dawned on me 8 months ago when we found each other again and recommitted ourselves to a future together that I realised (DUH!) that I was his first - you know - his first, first! Not much street cred there, how could I have been so naive and immature.
I had been so stupid, 16 years have passed. We had enjoyed fleeting moments, club hook up's and the occasional rendezvous over the next 7 years that followed. He had settled down (sorta) after being told that 4 months into his new relationship that he was going to be a dad. I won't lie, I was gutted. A couple of months earlier we had talked about a future. He wanted us to start fresh, his concerns over this new love of his worried him. He had seen the warning signs and chose to ignore them, he confided in me.
We had discussed his worries and while I was trying to be supportive and neutral in my approach (I mean I didn't want to influence his future) I decided to encourage him to follow his heart - and he did, straight into her arms.
In turn I endured multiple failed relationships, two failed engagements and a whole lot of heartache.
Fast forward and here we are, with 2 children in tow. He chose me again.
"It was always you", he had confessed 8 months ago. Words that lead me to realise it was in fact, always him too.
So what's the dirty secret? Well, daddy and I were so crazy deep in love when we met, back when we were teens, that we failed to protect ourselves or at least take precautionary measures while doing the funky monkey - and just like that, we were pregnant.
It was a blur, the kind of blur that one experiences when really, really traumatised. This was a big deal for a Christian girl to handle and believe me my mother took it better than expected, while my father to this day, doesn't know the truth.
I remember wanting to just press the reset button on my life. I was the girl with the player boyfriend remember? What kind of life would this mean for me? I was the girl with the stellar future, the one going places. In my mind he was the player that was just in this for the ride. I had to press reset.
Daddy had gone out and bought himself a cigar when I told him the news. I can't remember telling him, I just remember going for a scan with him and seeing that tiny little bean on the screen. I was too scared to be happy and when I felt compelled to join him in his happiness I felt guilty, after all, I had done a terrible thing. A thing that my very own mother had threatened me with my life with for years and years before. As mentioned, my mother had 3 kids of her own by the time she was 21. I had decided that it was a life that I couldn't handle, I was a child myself when I look back, so how I made that decision quickly is beyond me.
Perhaps a part of me knew I was too stunted to handle the truth. After I terminated the pregnancy at 7 weeks, ironically at the same hospital I was born in, daddy went on a self destruct mission which included a life of drugs, alcohol, nightclubs and loose women. We never lost touch for the 7 years after that, he was my constant. I know everything about his sordid past and he knows about mine - it is the epitome of acceptance and purity. The epitome of friendship.
Many people ask why we broke up in the first place. Well my dear readers, it is because we were both too young to commit, in short he and I were unfaithful to each other, both dealing with some very grown up emotions and hurt each other in the most brutal way - a way that fueled drunken nights, hardened hearts and the most bitter of associations of each other, coupled with a very obvious and tangible love and attraction that is still there all these years later.
My dirty secret is knowing that we would have had a 15 year old child. A child that was made of the purest, most innocent love, a love that has clearly stood the test of time. Here I am raising his children with a woman who tricked him (by her own admission) into pregnancy and then drank throughout both, terminating one in between. Is this my karma or his? Is this God's timing or just the consequence of a poor decision.
Mad - Who would have known.
Every time someone asked me if I regretted my decision to terminate I denied it. I denied it because it didn't matter, I denied it because I had a future ahead of me that didn't include my baby daddy. My little heavenly soul is taken care of. A couple of years ago an ex of mine suffered a heart attack and passed away in his early thirties, taken too soon from his family a year or so after our break up. His sister contacted me at the beginning of 2014 with a spiritual message she had received from him. She had never known of my teenage pregnancy and told me that her brother wanted me to know that he was with "the baby" and queried whether him and I had conceived. I knew exactly what she was referring to.
It took me many years to get to the point that I could talk about it, now I just want to help the youth of today with these decisions, educate them on being 'safe'. Have I screwed up or have I screwed up - wow! The regret I feel is heavy, it weighs on my heart and squeezes my soul. Now, more than ever.
It could have worked I guess, perhaps it would have been to our detriment? Perhaps my greatest guilt comes from not knowing how this would have all turned out. Now I'm raising two young children from another woman with a man who was always meant to be mine. Is this my punishment? God, I want a child of my own. You know my heart, my hurts and my hatred for the decisions I've made. Now that terminated pregnancy matters, it matters now because we're back together, it matters more now than I ever thought it would.
Maybe one day
We sat together at a restaurant table recently, the kids had just returned from the jungle gyms for a sip of apple juice. An older woman sat across from us commends daddy on his strong genes.
"Gosh you have beautiful boys" she says "perhaps you should tell mommy it's time to have a little girl" she smiles suggestively at me. "We're working on it", daddy says, and he squeezes my hand under the table.
Life over the last 8 months, has been the sweetest and most bitter pill to swallow. My turn will come, I'm here, we're in this together.
I may as well accept the beautiful mess I am inside, we have so much history and so much to look forward to.
My own father brazenly chirped in the beginning that I had chosen this life and that I should live with it. Clearly he had forgotten that he took on my mother who had 3 young boys when she married him.
So I haven't been honest about something, yep, I have a dirty secret.
Seeing as this is a nameless, faceless blog, I'm happy to release my burdens to the world without any real repercussions.
Broody - Prima Donna Me
So I never thought I'd say this but I offered to put a child to sleep, rock him to be exact, while at a braai with friends. The baby was a stranger, so were his parents. But, I offered. Offered. Seeing that we're being honest with each other, let me tell you that I just wanted to feel what it was like to entirely be in the moment of inconvenient motherhood - and I think I'm ready, really ready for a child of my own.
Ask me a year ago and I would have told you that broodiness is natures way of tricking you into conceiving a child - can you say jaded, but the reason will follow. There I stood smiling like the world had just blessed me with a thousand gifts of emotional bliss. His little head rested on the bend of my forearm as I gently swayed him to sleep, rhythmically tapping on his bum and humming ever so quietly to myself. Perhaps a neon sign had erected itself above my head, as a stranger at the braai yelled over to me, "Broody aren't you!"
I was crushed that I had been caught out while relishing in private, and yet there it was for all to see, quite publicly it seems. (Note to self: Work on poker face)
Previously, there was a very palpable annoyance that I experienced when it came to the challenge of putting a child to sleep. I'm sure there are many parents out there scoffing as they read this, thinking "My God, she's got NO idea what it's like to accept that challenge at 01:30 am after 2 hours of sleep!" and maybe they're right. But, right now, I'm yearning for this, albeit the serious guilt, remorse, sadness and a hint of anger I feel about the following dirty secret.
Guilty - My dirty secret
What I haven't told you is that daddy and I met 16 years ago. He was my first love and I was his. I didn't know then what I know now. Firstly that he reciprocated the cocktail of (slightly obsessed) emotion that I felt for him and secondly that we would share the next 16 years together, in one way or another.
How could I have known, I was 17, as ignorant as they came and he had a reputation as a player. Such a "hardcore" reputation that it only dawned on me 8 months ago when we found each other again and recommitted ourselves to a future together that I realised (DUH!) that I was his first - you know - his first, first! Not much street cred there, how could I have been so naive and immature.
I had been so stupid, 16 years have passed. We had enjoyed fleeting moments, club hook up's and the occasional rendezvous over the next 7 years that followed. He had settled down (sorta) after being told that 4 months into his new relationship that he was going to be a dad. I won't lie, I was gutted. A couple of months earlier we had talked about a future. He wanted us to start fresh, his concerns over this new love of his worried him. He had seen the warning signs and chose to ignore them, he confided in me.
We had discussed his worries and while I was trying to be supportive and neutral in my approach (I mean I didn't want to influence his future) I decided to encourage him to follow his heart - and he did, straight into her arms.
In turn I endured multiple failed relationships, two failed engagements and a whole lot of heartache.
Fast forward and here we are, with 2 children in tow. He chose me again.
"It was always you", he had confessed 8 months ago. Words that lead me to realise it was in fact, always him too.
So what's the dirty secret? Well, daddy and I were so crazy deep in love when we met, back when we were teens, that we failed to protect ourselves or at least take precautionary measures while doing the funky monkey - and just like that, we were pregnant.
It was a blur, the kind of blur that one experiences when really, really traumatised. This was a big deal for a Christian girl to handle and believe me my mother took it better than expected, while my father to this day, doesn't know the truth.
I remember wanting to just press the reset button on my life. I was the girl with the player boyfriend remember? What kind of life would this mean for me? I was the girl with the stellar future, the one going places. In my mind he was the player that was just in this for the ride. I had to press reset.
Daddy had gone out and bought himself a cigar when I told him the news. I can't remember telling him, I just remember going for a scan with him and seeing that tiny little bean on the screen. I was too scared to be happy and when I felt compelled to join him in his happiness I felt guilty, after all, I had done a terrible thing. A thing that my very own mother had threatened me with my life with for years and years before. As mentioned, my mother had 3 kids of her own by the time she was 21. I had decided that it was a life that I couldn't handle, I was a child myself when I look back, so how I made that decision quickly is beyond me.
Perhaps a part of me knew I was too stunted to handle the truth. After I terminated the pregnancy at 7 weeks, ironically at the same hospital I was born in, daddy went on a self destruct mission which included a life of drugs, alcohol, nightclubs and loose women. We never lost touch for the 7 years after that, he was my constant. I know everything about his sordid past and he knows about mine - it is the epitome of acceptance and purity. The epitome of friendship.
Many people ask why we broke up in the first place. Well my dear readers, it is because we were both too young to commit, in short he and I were unfaithful to each other, both dealing with some very grown up emotions and hurt each other in the most brutal way - a way that fueled drunken nights, hardened hearts and the most bitter of associations of each other, coupled with a very obvious and tangible love and attraction that is still there all these years later.
My dirty secret is knowing that we would have had a 15 year old child. A child that was made of the purest, most innocent love, a love that has clearly stood the test of time. Here I am raising his children with a woman who tricked him (by her own admission) into pregnancy and then drank throughout both, terminating one in between. Is this my karma or his? Is this God's timing or just the consequence of a poor decision.
Mad - Who would have known.
Every time someone asked me if I regretted my decision to terminate I denied it. I denied it because it didn't matter, I denied it because I had a future ahead of me that didn't include my baby daddy. My little heavenly soul is taken care of. A couple of years ago an ex of mine suffered a heart attack and passed away in his early thirties, taken too soon from his family a year or so after our break up. His sister contacted me at the beginning of 2014 with a spiritual message she had received from him. She had never known of my teenage pregnancy and told me that her brother wanted me to know that he was with "the baby" and queried whether him and I had conceived. I knew exactly what she was referring to.
It took me many years to get to the point that I could talk about it, now I just want to help the youth of today with these decisions, educate them on being 'safe'. Have I screwed up or have I screwed up - wow! The regret I feel is heavy, it weighs on my heart and squeezes my soul. Now, more than ever.
It could have worked I guess, perhaps it would have been to our detriment? Perhaps my greatest guilt comes from not knowing how this would have all turned out. Now I'm raising two young children from another woman with a man who was always meant to be mine. Is this my punishment? God, I want a child of my own. You know my heart, my hurts and my hatred for the decisions I've made. Now that terminated pregnancy matters, it matters now because we're back together, it matters more now than I ever thought it would.
Maybe one day
We sat together at a restaurant table recently, the kids had just returned from the jungle gyms for a sip of apple juice. An older woman sat across from us commends daddy on his strong genes.
"Gosh you have beautiful boys" she says "perhaps you should tell mommy it's time to have a little girl" she smiles suggestively at me. "We're working on it", daddy says, and he squeezes my hand under the table.
Life over the last 8 months, has been the sweetest and most bitter pill to swallow. My turn will come, I'm here, we're in this together.
I may as well accept the beautiful mess I am inside, we have so much history and so much to look forward to.
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