Last week, the kids and I spent an afternoon at a beach we hadn't been to before. Warm fine soft white sand and plenty of drift wood washed ashore and piled into structures here and there. Liam dubbed it 'Bone Land; the desert island of dinosaur bones' and proceded to mount an expedition. We found all kinds of bones from all kinds of dinosaurs and even some Coprolites (my word of course, 'dinosaur poop' to Liam) which were usually large pieces of bark. Zoe followed Liam around - whom she now, on occassion, calls 'Leelum' - picking up recently dropped 'bones' and reciting Liam's previous identification. Or just stating 'dinosaur bone mommy' (with far less diction than writing indicates).
As I sat there watching the sand shift and flow between my toes I did a lot of thinking about Life, The Universe, and Everything. It has been a long summer filled with pain and overwhelming personal revelations. When you become a new parent your life is changed forever and though there is much opportunity for great joy and love - like you have never felt before - you can also tap into new sources of pain and fear. I love my children, both of them, with all my heart. But these last four years haven't been easy for us. When you read in books about 'High Needs' children you read about what they need from you and how to deal with them, and you are reassured that with your love and caring they will be ok. They don't tell you how to keep yourself whole and healthy and sane while you cope with this new life that you love so completely and selflessly.
The books also tell you to take care of your marraige and take time for yourselves. And you try. You really try. But it's still easy to hide the difficulties you are having from each other. It's easy to drift apart as you settle into your new roles as mother and father.
Somewhere on the highway in Northern Alberta I came to the sudden realization that I didn't know who I was anymore. Deep rooted emotions welled up and burst out of me with such force that I had to get out of the car, convulsing with tears on the side of the highway. In my pain, I began to realize that in the company I was keeping I had been doing myself a disservice. Over the following weeks I have come to the realization that I have allowed my self esteem to be compromised by another's insecurities and insinuating competitiveness, and I was capitulating; I was a bad wife, a disastrous cook, a poor housekeeper, an average mother. I found myself trapped within a circle of gossip, shopping, and ultimately betrayal, that was damaging to my soul. The bitter woman consumed by the anxiety of a clean home was whom I had become. And I was all alone because the strong partnership that Steve and I have spent so many years building had crumbled around us and we hadn't even noticed.
The thing is, I am an amazing wife and a wonderful mother. My cooking is just fine on its own and even better when Steve and I work together. My housekeeping is prone to clutter but I have always preferred a lived-in home to the pristine showcase of other places. I am a writer and an intellectual. I have never before in my life been a woman prone to gossip and shopping as a common past time - and I never will be again. I have been for many years part of an amazing team with my best friend, my life, my love, my husband, and we will continue in that partnership till the end of our days.
I beleive that you get to where you are in life by the choices you make. As an adult you have to take responsibilty for those choices and accept the consequences. There is no use in pointing fingers or laying blame, there is only recognition of the truth and a willingness to change.
As I sat there on the beach, identifying dinosaur bones, sifting sand, and basking in the heat of a September sun, I finally felt like life was on track again. It's not easy. But neither Steve nor I are alone anymore. We are once again aware of each others demons and together we fight our battles. We are rediscovering how to be a team - rather than dividing the roles we play as parents - and our children are a part of that new and stronger team. There are fewer people in our lives now, but the ones who remain are the ones that really matter. This Life of ours is full.
