How I Used to Feel

Today I remember how it used to feel.

Becoming a mother was not easy for me. Giving birth, that was not the difficult part. No, redefining myself as mama, giving up what has to be surrendered to take care of needy mammal human babies, that has been the challenge!

Primo is 5 and a half, Secundo will be two this week.

My life now is different than it was when I started on my journey of motherhood. I no longer live with my boys’ dad, and for the next few months I’m still mostly a single mother when the boys are with me, which is 70% of the time (for now). Their dad and I uncoupled and adjusted rather quickly to being parents rather than spouses, and I have a new man in my life who knocks my socks off. He loves me, he loves the boys, and he’s moving here to be with us in September.

I am so much happier. I have time to myself, clear spaces where I do not have to focus on the children and can allow my mind to dwell in the deep places my soul wants to explore.

I am their mother when they are with me, and also when they are with their dad.

Mostly I enjoy this, and flow from being the mother on duty to being the mother at a distance. But sometimes guilt gets in the way and when I’m alone I sob and grieve. I know I am not alone; other mothers in my situation do the same. It’s normal. It’s getting easier. I’m letting it take the time it needs to take.

Last night Silas woke just as I was going to sleep. Do you know that feeling? “Sleep deprivation is a recognized form of torture,” my friend Mandi always says. Melting into sleep, hovering over the abyss of dreams and unconscious, I was awakened by a cry. Heart racing, mouth dry, I stumbled out of my bed to fetch the boy and carried Secundo back with me. Hoping he’d fall asleep easily beside me. But he didn’t.

He cried and cried and cried. “Wa wa,” he called, and he drank when I brought him a cup. Still he didn’t settle. “Bump bump,” he begged, and patted his own bum, indicating he wanted me to pat him to sleep. But that didn’t work either. “Doh!” he ordered when I asked if he was hungry. So we went into the kitchen, but he didn’t want food. He just wanted to be up. He looked out the window and said “Doh, car!” as the traffic light went green, and “’Top!” as the light went red. I see.

So, back to bed we went. Tears. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth – and not just him! I got angry. Remembered the five years of torture where I was the one who woke at night and got up early and attended to the children all day and did the night time stuff too. Often without a break. (There were reasons the marriage didn’t work…)

Two hours later we were finally asleep. And four hours after that, we were awake again – this time for the day.

Oh, it reminded me of my previous lifetime. How angry I was – at their dad, but it showed up as frustration with the kids. I know a lot of people have trouble parenting because their marriages are not healthy. I know many moms who lose it because they just don’t get the space and support they need.

The nuclear family sucks as a model for raising kids. It works for some, but not for many. In other times and other cultures, many more than two people raise the kids. Grandparents play a valuable role in spelling the parents and supporting the household. Extended family, community, and a network of like-minded people all contribute. All this is necessary, and frequently missing in our affluent, comfortable, easy society.

We all spent the morning being sleep deprived. I am out ahead enough to appreciate that I’m no longer depressed, I’ve caught up on lots of my sleep, and my bubble is usually in the middle, like the carpenter’s level that indicates when things are in balance.

But I did worry about Secundo’s behaviour. When their dad recently observed Secundo performing a tantrum, he was taken aback. “I’ve never seen that.”

Oh, really? What’s up with that? Is it something I’m doing wrong? (The guilty mother’s universal question.)

“They’re going to have very different lives,” my mom said when I called her this morning. “They live in two different worlds. They’ll have differences in behaviour because of that.”

Makes sense. Though there is no other separation in our family, she gets it.

And then she called back to say: “In my experiences, children were always much more free with our mothers. It’s not that we were scared of our dads (although in some cases, this was true), but we were differently behaved around them. With our mothers, we were ourselves. And didn’t hold back.”

I’ve noticed this. Look, I’m 43 and I still call my mommy when I have a problem. You should have seen me wailing away in the initial adjustment period of uncoupling.

I hold the space for my children to express themselves. I honour their feelings. What I want most for my kids is for them to be themselves. I don’t let them get away with disrespectful behaviour – that would be spoiling them -- but I don’t shut it down at the source.

Mothers and fathers play different roles in kids’ lives. When we are healthy versions of our selves, we can parent wholly. Co-parenting has an extra layer of challenges related to the disconnect between households; their dad and I work hard to be strategic and to communicate. Information flows between us. We do not have rigid boundaries.

Though I feel like molasses and fog today, I am not anxious. When they spend Monday night with their dad, I will sleep. I will have space to do yoga, meditate, write. Their dad will take good care of them. In September I’ll no longer be a single mom and the boys will have another loving caregiver in their lives.

We’re redefining family to suit our needs, and to reflect our family values, and it’s working for us.