Today, I launched, put into the world, set free, gave birth to…
THE WALL OF SECRETS MEMOIR OF THE ALMOST DAUGHTER
Releasing a book to the world is known in book talk as “birthing”. The pain is different but just as real. I have had to edit and re-edit as one always does and each time it’s brought tears to my eyes. Not mast cell ones but genuine pain filled ones. I am The Almost Daughter. I’ve never had a Mother.
The definition of Mother is many things depending on where you look:
a woman who gives birth or has the responsibility of physical and emotional care for specific children
“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did-that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that – a parents heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”
My emotions are raw today, part mast cell, part pain and sorrow because I, in my sixth decade have never had a mother, never been mothered. How can that possibly be? I’ve laid to rest 3 parents and yet have never had a mother…how the hell can that be?
I, myself am a mother. Not a perfect one by any means. Never having been mothered I had no healthy base to work from. There was never any question when I held my baby for the first time, I knew I was in love. I also felt my birth mother’s pain. I knew I would do everything in my power to protect, to love and cherish, to advise, to teach, to do and be everything I would have wanted for myself from a mother. Far from perfect with many mistakes and still there is an amazing young woman in this world that I am proud to call my daughter that radiates pure joy and love. As flawed as I was as a mother.. she had one that loved her more than life..she knew that, felt that. I did not. Therein lies the difference for those of us abandoned, abused, adopted. We had no mother.
I’ve been known to go deep into the greens of the rainforest alone with my little dog. I go to sit. I go to meditate. I go to cry. Mostly I go to scream, sobbing into the dark hallows of nature…I WANT MY MOTHER….
I’ve done this for decades. I searched for decades, weeping on birthdays and occasions that should bring joy.
I grew myself.
Not in the best way but the only way I knew. I learned to mother myself, sadly not very well but enough to allow growth and survival. I was the only one there, to soothe, to comfort, to hold tight. I now know I can survive anything because I have. With each trauma another layer of protection was added. You can imagine then, launching a book with my truth in between the covers lays my heart out on the table as Debra says in her quote. Raw, beating on the outside, so vulnerable, so open.
I watch my beautiful daughter with her newborn son and my eyes well up.
I’m reminded of my time with her, how I tried to do everything right. I’d stare at her for hours in wondrous amazement that this little being was so perfect and had been entrusted into my care.
I see her loving him with her eyes, her touch, her heart that is now on the outside wide open, as mine has been. He watches her every movement, he smiles at the sound of her voice. He nuzzles into the safety of her scent, her skin, her genetics, her being, and he knows with all of his heart, he is where he should be and that he is so loved. Even in utero, he knew.
I WANT MY MOTHER….PLEASE, PLEASE, LET ME HAVE MY MOTHER
We aren’t taught how to be our own best friend, how to look after our hearts, our minds and bodies. We aren’t taught how to comfort and soothe our broken hearts. We learn along the way usually at a great price.
We know the pages and pages of studies that document the importance of babes being placed in their mother’s arms or on their chests for that immediate connection, the knowing, the feeling of love and belonging…the foundation for building a solid base for a healthy being to flourish.
We, the abandoned ones, the adopted ones, the abused and neglected ones feel that disconnect, the unworthiness, the not being loved and protected, the grounding, the roots.
WE KNOW….WE LIVE IT DAILY.
I’m now going out onto my deck, wiping the tears and sucking up as much oxygen as I can so I can scream at the top of my voice…again….