My Resurrection

I wonder if my children resent me in the same manner that I resented my own mother. They definitely have every right to harbor ill feelings towards me. I abandoned them, hurt them and I fear that I have not given them many gifts throughout their lives. I would like to think that, as my mother did for me, I gave them the most amazing relationships. I have been incapable of providing them the relationship that they yearned to have; the relationship between mother and child.

My mother has said for years that when I buried my first daughter, she also buried me. I was never the same person I had been. My joy, that was once so prevalent, had seeped out of my soul. My death was quiet. I moved through my life; functioning like a robot. I lost all of my senses, forced to shut down in order to survive. Not even an adult, I had endured the greatest loss a person should never be forced to endure. And yet I was totally obsessed with having children, certain that their love would cure me.

I gave birth to two beautiful children, only eighteen months apart. I loved my little girl and little boy more than I loved my husband and certainly more than I loved myself. Because of my lack of emotional and physical intimacy, my marriage fell apart. I fled from my husband and took my precious babies with me. One day he picked them up for his weekend visit and refused to bring them back. Since we had no court order there was nothing I could immediately do to get them back; another loss that was too overwhelming to overcome. I truly believed, at the time, that it would be better for my babies to stay with him. I refused to allow my children to be pawns in the destruction of our marriage. I would not play tug-of-war with my babies. It was the worst decision I had ever made.

It was the first bad decision followed by a long procession of mistakes. I sank further into depression. Where I was previously numb I was now devoid of any emotion except for self-pity and self-loathing. I distanced myself from all of my family. My second death was also quiet but much more painful. I had too much despair to live but not enough courage to end my physical existence. Slowly, I ended my relationship with my children; two victims of my twisted wreckage. I was incapable, or perhaps too selfish, to accept the pain I caused.

As my children grew up, I made the decision to straighten out my pathetic life. A long time passed until I was finally ready to change my circumstances. I still struggle with my emotions and correcting my mistakes but I am closer each day to becoming healthy. I have been re-establishing my relationship with my children. They are adults now and more able to understand and accept me. My greatest hope is that one day I will be capable of giving them the greatest gifts. Gifts of sharing our life, our laughter and our love!