Category Archives: parenthood

The Saddest Thing

Anyone that knows me knows that I have a hard time expressing myself confidently. The best way that I know how to do it coherently is to write. Sometimes I do it well, other times, it’s mediocre at best. I’m my own worst critic, the voice in my head consistently screaming “DO BETTER!” Compound that with grief and my guess is you get a spiral of anxiety and depression that leaves me consistently exhausted and angry. Not conducive with a three year old and partner who depend on my ability to stay patient in the face of adversity…er, everyday life.

My Christmas present last year from Josh was a Fitbit Charge (which I love!) and that has proven to be a curse. This week, I have slept more than played with Izzi. This week, I have spent more time on the phone than teaching her how to read or working on her ability to add or subtract. The rare moments that I have found the capacity to be the mother that I think she deserves, I’m irritable and mentally spent after the exchange.

In no way is she neglected or malnourished but I can’t help but feel like I’m failing her when I can’t get out of my own head. I find myself flashing back to previous holidays, and vacations and am spaced out and short of breath when I return to the present. Usually snapping out of it because Izzi has asked the same question 18 times and I’m just now figuring out how to answer.

The other day, perhaps the beginning of my spiral, I was on the phone with my mother and Izzi asked to speak to Opa. My guess is she longed to hear him say “IKE!” and ask her how she’s doing. I was unable to prevent my mom from hearing it and after my own anguish, the guilt of Izzi’s inability to understand and the probable pain caused by her question flowed freely. I should be able to explain Opa in a way that she understands but then, how can I explain what I don’t even understand. It’s like explaining why the sky is blue or the stars shine so brightly outside the lights of the city.

Guilt and grief go hand in hand these days. I’m sad because I miss my Dad, then guilty because I couldn’t save him. I’m sad because I can’t make myself move past this and guilty because it’s taken a toll on my family that I can’t fix right now. I’m sad because I can’t heal the pain that my mom, daughter and partner endure from the loss of a man that’s left a black hole sized chasm in our family. Guilty because there should be something that I could do to ease their pain.

Grief specialists will tell you that this is part of the process and you have to let yourself feel every emotion to get through it. Grief stops for nobody. Not even a three year old that needs her mother. That’s probably the saddest thing of all.

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Ch-ch-change is Scary.

For a long time, my identity was based on me, and what I wanted to do when I grow up. I still remember answering that question every year during our annual trip to the beach and it stayed consistent for a long time. I didn’t want children and I wanted to live in a high rise in New York City so I wouldn’t have to do yard work.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Izzi started school a week ago and today was the first day that I didn’t feel like a huge jerk when I dropped her off. She dropped my hand in favor of the teacher’s and there were no tears shed when she realized I was leaving. Strange feeling.

As we bought her first back pack last month, I was sad, panicked and overwhelmed by the fact that this little creature, my little buddy would no longer be glued to my hip every day. No one was more confused by this reaction than I. I’d put up a tough front, said “I can’t wait for her to go to school, so I can have some peace and quiet!” While the introvert in me stands by this, the mommy inside me, (and on the outside) ugly cried the first day that we dropped her off. I worried about her not fitting in, being totally miserable, hating school, hating me or worse. I worried about outside dangers. Things that I don’t worry about when she’s with me. What if there’s another very sick person who decides to … I struggle to finish sentences like this because let’s face it, things like Newtown cross my mind repeatedly when she’s at school. I’m trusting these women with my most prized possession and it is the scariest thing that I’ve done to date.

There’s little I can do but say a prayer to keep her safe everyday and hope that our destiny isn’t hurtling without brakes towards an unknown predator. The control freak deep within has to suck it up. Today, I will be thankful that my little one hit such a huge milestone and that I am allowed to be the very person that I didn’t want to be 10 years ago.

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