The Sky Turns
All I can think of this morning is a Rumi poem, after two hours of sleep. After the hardest twenty-four hours of motherhood. Who knows why the combination of factors makes me want to jump out a window at 3am, or why the recent 'episodes' of outrage from a two year old push me so close to my edge.
I had to take her out of a restaurant in the first ten minutes of sitting down, full screams and flailing limbs trailing behind. Refusal to get into the carseat had me restraining her so that she wouldn't hurt herself, while she hit me in the face and head, while parents stopped on the sidewalk to stare, stared out windows from restaurants. Disdain in their eyes. I was sure one of them would call 911.
More cries and screams from 2 - 5am. I hit the wall.
How do we bear those first moments of shutting down to our own children? How to we look at dread straight in the face?
I sit in the car after dropping her at daycare and cry outside of Peet's. On the radio, NPR, a show about the traffic of women and children. Strange and tragic, but I begin to gain perspective.
The annual sexual trade of women and children is a $10 billion dollar industry, in line only behind arms and drug trade.
1.2 million children are taken and sold and traded every year, a large number in our country.
Ok, my child is safe and loved. I suck in many things of mothering, but I love my daughter fiercely.
I hate coming undone. But I see that I need help, so I'm going to look for help. Levels of violence in my childhood make it impossible to function through the raw hours of mothering a daughter. So scary.
My prayer today, my prayer for River and me and making it through....
Rumi is worth repeating:
BIRDWINGS
Your grief for what you've lost lifts a mirror
up to where you're bravely working.
Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,
here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
if it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting
and expanding,
The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.
- Rumi
* Thanks to my dear friend and doula, Carolyn, I found out about a therapist in Berkeley who wrote the book When Survivors Give Birth. I just called, she answered the phone, and I'm going to see her tomorrow.
posted by riversgrace | 1:25 PM PERMALINK
10 Comments:
That Rumi poem is so beautiful, I am going to keep that one.
You have such a gift for finding the light, the inspiration, the questions, the answers, and the comfort when it's needed--in art, spirit, words, friends, the trees. You are a wonderful mother, and I'm sure River is deeply grateful already, although she may occasionally be too busy screaming to notice.
And it's amazing that we expect ourselves to be able to function on so little sleep. I hope you are able to get more tonight!
"the raw hours of mothering a daughter."
Yes, indeed. I know this one well.
You will be challenged. She is finding her way, her independence. There is a bump at 2 and another one between 3 and 3 1/2, then it gets all squishy again.
You must be unambiguous. You are the parent, she is the child. She is pushing up against you looking for where the line is. Is it here? Or here? What if I try this? What will you do then? Huh? What about this? Are you sure?
She needs your boundaries. This is hard to offer when one's own boundaries weren't protected. Now she is offering you the gift of how to learn them for both of you. I know it is hard. It is uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. This is deep work. Take the reigns, show her where the line is, you are in charge, let her complain about it, but she will thank you later with her respect.
I have so been there...taking mine out of a restaurant, fireman-style, kicking and screaming, abandoning a full grocery cart, putting her in the car flailing and waiting it out until she calms down enough to get strapped in, (music helps, so does keeping snacks in the car and purse), being firm and definite, 5 minutes means 5 minutes, (not 7 or 9 minutes), no means no, not no but then I'll cave because you're making a racket. You are in charge of what's acceptable and what's not.
You can do this Prema. It looks rocky now, but this will pass. She will turn into a delightful, spirited, yes, willful girl, and you'd rather have that than a passive pleaser.
Mothers in solidarity, not judgment!
Big love coming your way!
As Tanya says, big love coming your way, Prema.
Delighted to hear you've found someone to hear you and help you find your way. I'm betting that just as Rumi says, you're expecting to see the worst and will find something far less frightening reflected back to you by the therapist/mirror.
Until then, rest if you can. And know that I am holding you in the Light and sending you peaceful, restful vibrations.
(((You)))
It sounds hard. You are not a bad mom, though. You are a good mom. We all have moments of real challenge, and sometimes it is not even what we think. One of my best friends has a little boy who was so hard, and acted violent. Had meltdowns. He pushed her and made her just cry! Think she was just failing him! And then she found he had autism. It wasn't her at all! She could understand it all better, and saw herself for the loving mom she is, and learned how to parent a child with his needs without punishing herself.
I hope this therapist can help you see the same thing about yourself.You are loving her.
:)
Love the brutal honesty of this post. We've all been there. If someone tells you they haven't, they are just a big ol' lier!
Tell me everything after you see that therapist!
Dearest Prema,
I know exactly where you are. I can remember it so well. I'm so glad you're blogging about it because I can remember hiding it, making it a thousand times worse. And going to see Carolyn is doubly brave and certainly the best thing. You are a wonderful mother. You are. And I completely agree that our pasts keep us guessing as to whether or not we're up for this, as to whether or not we know how to handle our anger. Believe me, you already know. And Carolyn will confirm this as well. By asking all the questions, you are a thousand steps ahead.
I will get this book, too. I wish I had it when Wills was younger.
Much love to you, Prema.
Big Love to you and River, both. So tru everything, everyone has said above. We have all been there, sometimes still are there, and this too shall pass, and it's the hardest F'ing thing in the world to navigate.
The torrent of emotion that slams in from every direction. So brutal. Learning and growing is so brutal. Here's to you for being SO awake and knowing when to seek help with it!
I think I need to print GO Mama's comment and hang it on the mirror. So wise.
love.
I can't say much to you that hasn't already been expressed above, Prema, except to ring in that I've been there, too, and am still there to some extent. Mothering is hard work. Mothering a daughter (or two) after having been traumatized as a girl or young woman is extremely hard work. Demons are everywhere. I hope the book is helpful. You might also check out Hope Edelman's new book "Motherless Mothers".
Bravo to you for recognizing you need help and seeking it out. You are not being judged. Love.
Prema.
I hear you. I am with you.
Glad you are finding the help that you need.
You and River and so blessed.
Prema, I'm sending you wishes for warmth, sending you a slow vibration and wishes for deep and restful sleep. I don't know mothering; never did it and never expect to. But I know tired, and I know fried beyond all good sense, and I suspect that after you talk to this wise person, and after you rest, you will feel better. I wish you well and see you already coming back to center. xo
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