The Brightness of Night

When you grieve, the nights are always so difficult.  The darkness is haunting and reminding and quiet.  The solitude and cover of the blackness permits the thoughts to weave inside your mind, sometimes freeing you and sometimes tying you up tightly.  For the widow it is the coldness of the sheets.  For the mother, it is the emptiness...of the crib, of the womb, of the heart.

I think for someone post-miscarriage, I'm doing amazingly well.  Everyone I know (minus one-thanks AWN!) has forgotten about this.  No one asks about it (it's really so passe!) and all assume I'm fine.  And truly, in the public day to day, I am fine.  If you asked me honestly how I felt, I would still tell you fine.  Because I think I am. 

But, there's been trouble on the home front.  It's no new battle. It's one I have fought for, oh, six years now.  I have tried many things to establish a peace treaty, but unfortunately, the opponents are tough and rather stubborn. We struggle every single day to come to some type of terms...me and motherhood. The innocent victim of this war?  Builder Boy.

I have talked often about my intense feelings of guilt and incompetency, how I never fit the image of the mother I want to be.  I have given excuses-too many jobs, not enough money, infertility-and begged off of ideas to help.  But things are getting critical here...damage is being done and issues must be rectified.  I need help.

Each night as darkness falls, the brightness of my own feelings blind me.  I am overcome by my own incompetency and the failings of each day (and they are many).  Each night I assess the damage and strategically plan for the next day.  All of the wrongs I will right and the things I will do better.  As I attempt to sleep, I pray and make commitments.  Yet, each morning, as the sun rises to its own light, I am shaded by it.  A certain darkness descends and I find myself feeling alone and scared and incapable.  I look at this beautiful child who will in just one month's time will leave this house daily for all day school, and I wonder, "How have my failings impacted him?"  The harsh words, the impatience, the time spent working, or time wasted on the computer, too few books read and far too much television.  Not enough flash cards, not enough play dates.  No sibling. 

He is a sweet and clever boy.  He is kind and empathetic to others.  He uses great manners in public.  He is full of wonder and energy.  He is inquisitive and imaginative.  And every day, as he grows, I feel as if I take a little of those positives away from him with my own negatives.  So, maybe I am not okay.  Maybe this miscarriage has damaged me far more than I admit.  Maybe this subconscious refusal to "not be okay" is causing my bad parenting.

So, it's time.  Changes are coming.  Builder Boy deserves a more engaging mother...a happier and nicer and more patient mother.  And I need some peace of mind as the night enfolds.

Comments

[Grace]

"Bad Mama" feelings are both daunting and haunting---they cripple us from seeing the good that we do each day and are a constant reminder of this mistakes that we have made.

God gives us moms a very special gift in that our children do not remember their early years in the detail that we do. Just yesterday, I asked Juli what she remembered about a particularly dark time for both of us during her Kindergarten year. (She was having issues of defiance, among other things. I was having a variety of issues. It escalated one night to both of us really losing it, me throwing a cup across the room, before T. stepped in. I went into counseling after that.) Anyway, my reason for telling you this is that she remembers NOTHING about it. What a gift to my soul, to know that that particular bad-mama incident has been forgotten.

Miscarriage is such a cruel thief in so many ways; the worst seems to be that there are no outside signs, so people forget easily and assume the feelings have gone away.

Builder Boy is so blessed to have a mama who loves him so much. A mama who reflects and contemplates.

Prayers for you and your family. Love you!

[Heidi]

The nights are SO hard! I was up until 2:30am last night because it was just one of those hard nights.

When we've had particularly bad days, I sneak into Gabe's room at night, put my hands on his arms and pray that God will reparent him where I've failed.

Love covers a multitude of "sins," and I think that saying is particularly appropriate when thinking of parenting. None of us will ever be the parents we want to be. All of us will do things that should have been done differently. Kids grow up and need therapy because of the experiences of their childhood. That's just the way it is. But it's FAR easier for a child to come to terms with when they can also see the overwhelming love of their parent. It is obvious that you love Builder Boy with all your heart and want the best for him. Regardless of how perfectly or imperfectly you handle things with him, your love for him is an insurance policy of sorts that will protect him from the hurts some children are not so fortunate to be protected from.

[Corley]

Wow, what a statement coming from a mom who I want to be like when I have kids. I don't know what its like to stay up and think about these things but I would agree with the first poster and say I don't remember any of the "bad times" my family had. I had no idea we were financially strap or really anything else that they have mentioned in my adult years. I do remember trips, surprise gifts, what day my mom had off ever week, but none of the other stuff.

[Porsche Nut]

I think grief scares people. We all feel it differently and deal with it differently and people honestly don't know what to say. I had a relative who just now write me a letter and say it took so long because she didn't know what to say. I think also people don't want to bring up painful subjects with each other. We simply don't want to cause more pain. And we are so good at appearing just fine on the surface that people don't always think to ask.
Truly, I am not the mother I wanted to be either. Although I try, I fall so short sometimes. So you are not alone. There are mamas everywhere that are holding your hand and hugging you right now because they're taking the same journey you are.
It's like Grace said, BB is so lucky to have you and your love. You are always trying to be a better mother. Reread that list of wonderful traits you wrote about BB - how do you think he got those? From you!

[Stacey]

The nights can be so hard. They are the times when we are really alone with our thoughts and we relive all of the day's embarrassments and failures, and when our fears really do come out full-force.

I think Builder Boy is fortunate to have a mom who cares enough to want to be better for him! I agree with what has already been said here - as I was reading what an amazing kid he is, I thought about how he didn't get that way on his own. He got that way because of some great parenting. Even if you don't feel perfect, that's okay. I don't think he expects a perfect mom, but one who loves him and wants the best for him every single day. And that's exactly what he has! Praying you'll be encouraged today.

[Black Belt Mama]

First of all, and I tell you this often, you beat yourself up entirely too much. No one is June Cleaver. We all lose our patience with our kids and have things to do that take time away from them. I know you have this issue more than I do with the time, but you're still his mother and he adores you.

Second, I am always here if you want to talk about the miscarriage or if you just want to cry about it. I don't ask you about it because if you're not thinking of it, I don't want to bring it up and make you.

You are a good and patient mother. I have seen you in action.