I woke this morning with a bit of a heavy heart. Not because today I turn 55, because at 55 there are still things I long for from my family. Acceptance, understanding and comfort of knowing I am loved. I know most people are like get over it, your an adult, move on and many other saying of dismissiveness. It isn’t that I haven’t moved on, or stepped over it and carried on, I have though I still have the tug at my heart on my birthday.
It starts when my mom makes a loose plan with me or a restricted one. I know she has a life and I do not expect her to give up her whole day and night, lets least pretend that she will make time and that I am more important than card making, or weighting in. Yet while I type that I feel selfish, sad and wanting it, yet selfish. She is older and my days do not revolve around her, my life is full and busy and she can go weeks without a visit from me and still on my birthday I long for her to make me a priority.
It is crazy the dynamics between my mom in comparison to my dad. I was doing my best last night to explain the tears to my dad about not seeing my mom tomorrow (today b day). He was surprised at the tears and told me he had no idea how much it hurt me. In my mind I thought I am either a great actor or amazing at stuffing the pain so far down it is harder to see.
I understand it, I know where it stems from. I know most children are a surprise and at the time most parents are not prepared or situated for the news of pregnancy’s. That was no different with mine. My parents had split, they decided that they were not good together so they went there separate ways. So my mom was not all to thrilled to find out she was pregnant. I was born in 68 so if you know history then you know that abortions were not legal. My mom shared the unfortunate news with my dad. They scrapped I am sure, neither were ready for a baby when they were not even liking each other. My mom already had two children from her previous marriage and my dad was very much ok with no children.
So they did what any one would do it that time and era….. no it was not marriage they paid for a home abortion. Why the hell do I know this crazy part of my life because my mom told me. She didn’t randomly just say hey we tried to abort you. I was in my 30s and I asked her why she didn’t love me. Our relationship was so different than that of hers with my sisters. She assured me she did. Then a few years later I went to meditate in silence.. I was at that age of self discovery, we all go through it. anyways while away I had many things happened and one of them was hearing my parents fight. and it was about me..not wanting me..not ready for me.. I cried, it was the first time in my life that I realized I wasn’t wanted. Crazy right, I always knew she wasn’t fond of me, and that our relationship was different but not wanted.. And to know that of my dad.. I was crushed.
I was not longer satisfied with the assurance of her telling me she loved me. For years I had felt removed from her, less liked than my siblings and no matter how hard I tried I was unable to make this woman see me, appreciate me or love me. so it felt. so I went back to the phone and called her again and asked more.. actually I shared more. I told her about my (whatever you want to call it) while I was away meditating. It was then she told me that it was true, they did not want me, that they had gone there separate ways and then she found out she was pregnant. That abortions were not legal so they paid for a home abortion, it was unsuccessful so at 6 months along they got married.
You know at first the unsuccessful didn’t really bother me, it was more like a relief. I finally understood the dynamics of our relationship somewhat. It was like a weight had been lifted an understanding of some sort. I understood more of the reasons on the stories she use to tell me.. How when I was a baby she could not comfort me so she had to call my dad home from work, after hours and hours of me crying. He would come home take of his t shirt (sweaty from work) lay me on his chest and I would be out like a light, instant. Or how I would sit with my back against the door, for whatever reason i knew the times my dad would be coming home from work, and I would glare at her. And wait, then he would open the door and all was good. It was the realization that I wasn’t the problem in these scenarios as I had first believed. After hearing over and over again, I use to think what was wrong with me, why did i make my mom feel so bad, isolated and useless I was told repeatedly that I was a sick baby so with the information I was given, of course I thought it was me.
As time went on things shifted. My mom referred to the abortion more than once as unsuccessful. I am right here Sharon. She responded with an I know. It didn’t register to her what she was saying, is what I am choosing to believe. Then she would share more. About how my dad wasted a lot of money on that abortion. again right here. Now if I had felt different or had a different relationship with my mom maybe the impact of her words would not have effected me or cut as deep, however that was not the case. with already have a feeling of lack all it did was reaffirm what I already believed which was that she didn’t want me, didn’t care about me and didn’t love me.
In a place of privacy, where I think I may be entitled to have some strong emotions about it, somehow it became a family affair. I had my sister call me on my birthday one year while I was having dinner with my daughter to lecture me about people making mistakes and forgiveness. Somehow the feelings I was having were not valid. So she spent about an hour telling me what was what, about my wrong doings ( which was sharing with my dad what my mom had shared with me) as well as being upset with my mom. Somehow my parents paying for a home abortion, my mother sharing the information with me and having emotions or feelings about it became unacceptable. Some how my mother had become the victim in the situation and I was the villain. My birthday dinner was now cold and I wasn’t feeling so great, not as much sad as i was cheesed off. I asked her if she felt better, she said she had not intended the birthday call to go this way.. If that were the case then it wouldn’t have gone that way. Anyways I can not change that and found it ironic that we were discussing the abortion on my birthday. crazy right that I was defending my feelings about my parents trying to abort me on a day i was to be celebrating me being alive.
One of the things that gets brought up is why I am not as angry\sad with my dad? My dad very much owning his part of the decision making tried his very best to share the anger and sadness. He made it perfectly clear to me that the two of them made the decision together and that he thought it unfair that I was so hurt with my mom. I appreciated his approach and admire him for taking his part on and trying to lesson the burden on my mom. My sister brought it up on my b day phone call. The unfairness of my displaced anger. I let both of the conversations slide. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just lashing out at my mom for being the one that told me. I already knew why I was having the emotions I was having, though I was always told that if something is brought up more than once you may want to look at it. so I did. In conclusion I came back to the same feeling, emotions and answers I had before.
I was for sure hurt that my parents wanted and tried to abort me. How could that not hurt anyone. I could have gone through life not knowing and been perfectly fine of not knowing. That was not the way it turned out. Was I angry at my mom for sharing, no not really. hurt for sure. Though I appreciate how difficult it may have been and the fear that may come along with sharing that information. So I knew I was not feeling the way I was because she was the one that told me. So when once again my dad tried to share the blame and lesson my pain directed to my mom. I finally spoke my truth. I was not as upset with my dad as my mom because from the moment I was born, as unattractive and sickly as my mother tells me I was, he loved me. He never stopped, it never faltered or shifted. I was his baby girl and even though he thought he didn’t want me the moment I entered his world I was his with nothing but love in his heart for me. I never questioned if my dad loved me, it was always known. So why was it not the same with my mom. Because not a day has gone by from the time I was young till those moments that I did not question if she loved me. There is not a day that has gone by where I could concretely say my mom loves me. The hurt and anger wasn’t because they tried to abort me, it was because it felt like she was upset and resentful that it didn’t work, in her statements, comments with no thought or care that it was regarding me not being here. Like somehow my survival was the problem.
I realize I may always be the villain in this story for my mom, my sister or whomever else doesn’t like my truth or my emotions around such a difficult subject. They can paint the picture anyway they choose and I am ok with that. I, finally, have come to realize I am worth celebrating. That I am suppose to be here, that I apparently fought hard to come into this world and I understand that my family may not like the emotions or picture it paints of them and for that I am sorry. Though I also learned that this is not my burden to carry.
So on my birthday even though my heart might be heavy sometimes I make sure I celebrate me. My birth is amazing, my survival is incredible, and each year I don’t just celebrate getting old I celebrate that I am alive.