T and I were not compatible in our views of life, values, or anything of substance. But that didn't stop me, it just meant I put blinders on. And thus, I became a mom (without a boyfriend - amazing how such a small thing as a baby can scare a young guy away) during my senior year of high school. I actually delivered on the day of graduation.
Having Jessica changed my life. I had a life depending on me. And though I wasn't quite mature enough to handle the emotional requirements of being a mother, I had the sense of duty to assume the "father" responsibilities of providing for and attending to her needs. And I did this, diligently. My view of life shifted from one of wispy dreams to one of concrete obligations. And this was reinforced even more when my second child, Jenna, was born a year 1/2 later and profoundly deaf in both ears. I had to step up even further. And so, I did.
My values became: duty, responsibility, financial security, reliability, and loyalty. All wonderful traits, unless taken to the point of rigidity. To survive, I had to control my environment and maintain strict schedules. I didn't have the energy to let flexibility, compassion, and empathetic love into my life. I didn't have the patience to let my kids just "be" who they were. In short, I was uptight and irritable most of the time. And I was only 20.
I did this alone for several years but eventually I married. Mostly out of a need for security. I wanted more for my children.
Five years into the marriage, my sweet pea Jacob was born. From the moment I found out I was pregnant I harbored a persistent fear of losing him. I was certain I would miscarry. I was certain he would be born too premature or with a serious handicap. When he was born, I scrutinized every inch of him. He was perfect! Just wonderful! My fears were unfounded. For 5 days. It was then I noticed a blister on his hand. Then another on his shoulder. I took him to his pediatrician who sent me to the hospital immediately for testing. I broke every speed limit on my way. When I got there, I parked, unbuckled my tiny newborn, picked him up and raced to the hospital doors. As I held him tightly to my chest while maneuvering my way through the parking lot, THAT moment came. THAT moment was one of those crystallized times where time stands still and a brilliance of understanding charges through your body. I was a MOTHER. For the first time ever, the mama bear instinct of fearlessly protecting my child emerged. I wasn't delivering my child to a room of doctors and tests out of parental care-taking, I was searching for answers out of a mother's almost feral instinct to care for her young. My single-minded determination for a satisfactory explanation to Jacob's blisters made me my pediatrician's adversary. I refused to accept "bug bites" "baby acne" and "chicken pox." FIND OUT WHAT IT IS, I demanded. I knew it wasn't as simple as a cursory diagnosis.
24 hours of inpatient testing and 5 weeks of outpatient testing diagnosed Jacob with an extremely rare and incurable disease. He died 5 months later. And that is another story for another time.
Jacob's death was the first crack in the wall of "musts." The settled dust of yearning for something/anything became disturbed. Life was out there. I deserved to live it, and live it for myself!
And thus, I stepped on the path of pure self. Translation: utter selfishness and self-absorption. I still provided for my girls and I built a foundation of financial security. But something else was there: a narcissism built upon "Look at me! Look at what I've done! Look at what I've sacrificed for my family! Aren't I to be commended?" I began judging others by their accomplishments. "You have no excuse," I'd say. "Look at what I've done. Why can't you do it?"
My girls grew into adolescence under this shadow. I was an accountant. I was conservative. I was organized. Jessica was an artist. She was everything I was in the silt of my core, but nothing like the rock that penetrated the surface. Rather than embrace her differences, I pointed out all of her "shoulds". My biggest fear was that she'd make the same mistakes I did and lose her life like I thought I had lost mine. I was pushing a non-conformist soul to conformity; and had I prevailed, I would have sealed her fate to wind up like me - unsatisfied and always hungering for something not quite in reach. But she fought me, with the spirit of a Bull. She ultimately grew into an amazing adult. An adult of conviction, determination, and a beautiful heart. And Jenna... Jenna was always her own person. She quietly did what she wanted and on her terms, with the independence of a cat.
The transformation of my daughters to their own beings ultimately transformed me. The fear of failing them dissipated as I realized they were successfully forging their own ways. And somewhere along the way, I began laughing. I began enjoying. I began living. Judging and shoulding quietly receded and acceptance took their place; for in the process of molding my children, they resisted and shattered mine.
And this was the journey that culminated in an experience that liberated my soul: my Sweet Pea tattoo. Understanding why that was liberating is to understand the massive shift within me that allowed me to embrace such a concept.
I was product of the 80's, growing up in the culture of conformity: tattoos were for bikers and hookers. Yet buried inside of me was also the spirit of a rebel: tattoos are for anyone who wants one.
