Story of a Single Mother

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about single motherhood. It wasn’t something I planned or wanted – if I had known Judah would be an only child and I would be divorced from his father I would not have planned to conceive him. I was talking to my friend good Vicki who I met through Daisy Birthing over three years ago. We talked about lots of things, what we would do differently second time around for subsequent children, how much easier newborns were than toddlers… then I couldn’t help but say;

“I just look back and think God, I was so naïve.”

I really was. Ever since I was a child I can remember wanting to be a mother. I would wake in the middle of the night and, unable to sleep, make believe I was giving birth to a baby. I can remember a really strong urge to be pregnant from around age 15 that I managed to suppress for 6 years.

I’ve always thought about a woman I only met once. One of my friends from work was relocating with her vicar husband to North Wales and had invited me for a farewell meal with her other female friends. I looked up to my friend a lot, it seemed to me that she had the perfect life with her husband and baby. She was a kind, decent person. I wanted to radiate that same contentedness. So although at the time I was quite anxious and shy, I liked my friend enough to want to make the effort.

I wasn’t sat next to her. I was sat next to a girl with blonde short hair and an aura of confidence. I felt miles away in my tea dress and long brown curls, I felt like a child. We began exchanging information about our lives. I was recently engaged, soon to be married. I felt something from this woman that to this day I find difficult to put into words. It was almost a scepticism, a worldly self-sufficiency, and underneath it all a discomfort with sharing the details of her life. She hid it with breezy confidence, but I have always been good at detecting nuances in words, tone and body language.

I felt like my impending marriage amused her and yet made her uncomfortable, like she knew the ending to my story. I must have seemed like a child indeed. I had nothing else to offer except a few amusing anecdotes about my cat – I was consumed by the beauty of the future instead. There was nothing I was currently doing, it was all ahead of me. I noticed her phone wallpaper was that of a blond boy and I asked about her son. She shared that she worked full-time at a gym, her son was in nursery, they lived alone together. She clearly adored her little boy. She was not in a relationship with her son’s father, I don’t even know if she mentioned him at all.

I was taken aback. I didn’t know what to say. I admired her little boy and she clearly enjoyed showing me photos and videos of his happy, smiling face. But internally I was horrified. I wanted to be pregnant and assumed I would be within the year. I imagined myself, alone with a small child, putting him in full time childcare just so I could work to support us. My dreams for the future involved me being a wife and mother, ideally staying at home but maybe working a few part time hours to bring in some extra money. My dream then was of us eventually opening a coffee shop together, to stop Starbucks rinsing my personality and hard work for their own gain. But always in my mind, the backdrop – a loving husband and father supporting me emotionally so I could thrive. There was no room in my mind for any alternative.

I have noticed a recurring theme in my life, that whenever I have slightly judged somebody for whatever reason, I find myself in the exact same circumstance I judged them for. This has been true of so many things and it never ceases to be humbling.

Despite red flags and misgivings, I became pregnant and the wedding went ahead. I look at myself as I was then and think lamb to the slaughter. I look at pictures of Judah as a baby and think: You were so loved. You were so adored. My happy baby, infectiously giggling, like a merry Santa. I think back to myself then and I could curse myself for my blindness and naivety. 

Everything slowly but surely came crashing down.

Living for so long under the control of an angry person makes those first steps into independence scary. That's one of the reasons women stay. I would be lying if I said my life was easier once I left. It is just as hard, for different reasons. It is fragmented, it is a struggle, it is sometimes very bleak indeed. Just as I knew it would be. The time I spent married was one spent in a protective bubble that revolved around Judah and the home. It was a golden apple rotting from the inside. I was kept separate from the world that surrounded me, protected from those truths that people only felt comfortable sharing once I had escaped. Where is my home now? Where do I belong?

How do you make sense of it in your head? That your life was an elaborate fantasy that you yourself created, but sustained and supported by somebody who had a vested interest in keeping your head in the clouds. 

When I was married, I always felt that I was raising Judah for his father as well as with him. This had a huge impact on my parenting. That I was investing in the family as a whole. Judah, his father, and any other babies who came along. I wanted to be the perfect wife and mother. Now I'm piecing bits of my family together, my role in all of this still uncertain. How do I know who to be under these circumstances? Who is the mother, when she is not also the wife?

That intoxicating autonomy, though. What I once feared I'm now hooked on. So much so that my innate stubbornness has reared its head many times and I am absolutely terrified of living under anybody's control again. I've given up too much for it, sacrificed too much. I've done some unbearably selfish things since, things that would horrify my old self. My past has made me what I feared becoming most, a hardened woman.

I have more happy times than I did. The brief snatches away to just be myself, not mother-me, while my son is with his father. I don't have to beg him and be grateful for that time, like I used to when we were married. More often than not I spend that time working, in a job I adore that is so flexible, but always structured around my limited childcare. That is changing this week as Judah enters nursery for two full days a week. So much for my dreams of homeschooling my many children - off to nursery he must go.

What I want to say to the single mother that I met - I'm sorry you had to sit next to me. I'm sorry I was bland and hideously naive. I think if we met again we would laugh until we cried over our stories and the things that we have done. I think my cynicism and grit could match yours and I think now I'd be somebody worth knowing, just as you are. I know about the scary, addictive independence that is always countered by the restrictions of being head of the family, and I know the frustrating barriers of childcare. The complete relief and responsibility of controlling your own money and knowing how much you have in the bank. I know the favours begged and knowing there is no consistent backup. If you have a new relationship, how frustrating it is to only have brief snatches of time available to pursue it and the new set of challenges that presents. The loneliness. I know you put your child first and I know how hard you work to keep him safe and happy in your family of two. I hope you are as happy as you deserve to be.

When Gentle Parenting is Hard

I'm going to preface this blog by being honest: I am not always a gentle parent.

It's still the standard I aspire to.

Gentle parenting is the logical way to follow on from attachment parenting, something I've written about a lot before. I followed the methods of attachment parenting from the beginning, although I didn't know that it had a name until Judah was a few months old. As babies become toddlers you need more skills and understanding, as problems present themselves that have more complicated solutions than either breastfeeding or rocking.

Sometimes I am the mother gritting her teeth and suppressing rage as she carries a screaming toddler away from a situation. Sometimes I am the one muttering under my breath "Or you could just ignore me.." I have been known to say "Stop crying" when I am really at the end of my tether. 

I haven't been very gentle lately, and I don't feel good about it.

When I was married, there was always the sense that I was on a team, even if I was the one doing most of the work. That somebody had my back, was there to discuss these issues, had Judah's wellbeing at heart. The situation as it stands is the only other person in the world as invested in Judah as I am, who knows him as well as I do, will barely talk to me. I was not prepared for how difficult single motherhood would be.

Gentle parenting is hard. It is not the easy, permissive way out. It requires so much more than just gaining compliance. No gentle parent is perfect, no gently-parented child will display perfect behaviour. I'm not here to sell it to you, to prove it "works", because it might be we have different ideas about what working means.

Does it get results? Yes. Are those results immediate? No.

My son will often display less than ideal behaviour. The conventional solutions that some might think are appropriate could be rewards and punishment. The idea that we can use behaviourism to tweak a child and make parenting more convenient and our child more compliant. 

Gentle parenting goes to the source of the bad behaviour, acknowledges that every negative behaviour is generally an expression of a need that your child is too immature to articulate. It is your child attempting to connect with you, albeit in a frustrating way.

I'm not going to go into massive detail with the research around rewards and punishments and how they affect morality, motivation and can even encourage children to develop a fake, likeable persona around adults then subsequently misbehave at first opportunity when the adult's back is turned. The book "Unconditional Parenting" by Alfie Kohn was a revelation for me. 

My son has been consistently whining and crying for me in certain situations for a few weeks now. Anybody who has spent quality one on one time with my son will know what a fearsome, independent little soul he is. I am often the last thing on his mind. This is out of character behaviour. Conventional parenting wisdom tells me I should lay down the law, show him that this kind of behaviour is unacceptable. I'm the boss. I could do that - time outs perhaps, or a stern reprimand.

But does this go to the heart of the issue? If anything it will make it worse.

If he is whining for me, to me that says he is feeling insecure. He is needing more love and more attention. If I try and "behaviourism" that away, it doesn't solve the problem. It just encourages him to bottle up that need to avoid the punishment. I'm sure we all can see the logical conclusion that bottling up feelings might have on a teenager or young adult, and I don't think I would be surprised to find a lot of friends of mine were encouraged to suppress feelings as a child and still do so today in their intimate relationships.

That need for love and connection will never just go away.

Gentle parenting, far from being perfect parenting, demands that you are self-critical. Why is he demanding to connect with me in such an unpleasant way? If I honestly examined my own behaviour over the past few weeks, I have been busy and unavailable. I've spent too much time on my phone conversing with friends or answering emails. I've been grumpy and short-tempered. I've used television as a way of keeping him quiet while I get things done. None of which I'm happy with. The less gentle I was, the worse his behaviour became. Shining the light on your own behaviour and asking yourself if you're really surprised by your child's is hard.

Children, far more than adults, are beautifully forgiving.

Once I'd identified the problem (which was essentially my own behaviour), I immediately set about fixing it. We have had a lovely morning. I tried to be more involved, less rushed, more quick to smile. I banished my phone to my backpack. I once read that it's important to smile whenever your child enters the room, giving them the impression you are always so pleased to see them. I think that's lovely. We chased each other round softplay and chatted and although he did have a few little whinges before he went for a midday nap, I feel relieved. I know that I can do it, I will keep doing it, I will keep trying.

This won't be the last problem, this won't be the last time I need to examine both our behaviours and identify the need. It's exhausting, it's demanding, often the solution takes a while to come to you after a spate of less than ideal behaviour from your child. But I'm confident that I'm doing what feels right to me and will have a positive impact on Judah as he grows.

I used to have this hanging in my bathroom in my old house.. a lot of things got lost when I left. I've been thinking it's time to have it somewhere again.

 

When you wake me in the middle of the night, I choose love.
When you have a meltdown in the supermarket, I choose love.
When you refuse to take a nap again, I choose love.
When you act aggressively, I choose love.
When you begin to whine, I choose love.
When you have separation anxiety, I choose love.
When you want to talk back and test your voice, I choose love.
When you don't want to do your homework, I choose love.
When you are dawdling, I choose love.
When you don't want to go to bed, I choose love.
When you experience your first heartbreak, I choose love.
When your friend betrays you, I choose love.
Whatever you choose to be in life, I choose love.
When you are packing your bags to leave home, I choose love.
When you find "the one" for you, I choose love.

When I see you choosing love with your own child, I'll be so thankful I chose love.

I choose love because I want you to choose love. I choose love because love is always an option. I can force your obedience or I can invite your cooperation.

Fear is a choice. Love is a choice. I choose love.

Copyright 2015 Rebecca Eanes

Trusting Your Intuition

This could be considered a follow-up to my blog where I talked about the different contraception I had tried.

While writing it and since writing it, I began to have trouble. The IUD that I thought had settled down became distinctly unsettled. I was having long periods, felt fatigued, washed out, generally grumpy and unwell.

For the past few months I have been saying things like...

"I think my body is punishing me"
"My body hates me"
"My body is trying to get rid of it"
"My uterus is angry"

All that to the outside world must have just seemed like the generic grumbling about the inconvenience of contraception and menstruation. The old 'get on with it' of women's health. This month I decided I had had enough and I wanted it out of my body. The side effects were getting worse, not better as I had hoped. After checking I was definitely, definitely sure and being made swiftly aware I had the most difficult cervix to find in history that required a more experienced doctor.... I heard this

"Oh.... it was on its way out anyway!"

Now I am somebody who teaches women to trust their intuition. For my job. 

I had to laugh. 

I was right.

All the things I had been saying, the gut feelings I was having, I literally SAID my body was trying to get rid of it. And it was. I'd postponed the inevitable for a few months and ignored the words that were coming out of my own mouth.

This was a really important lesson for me to learn and reinforced my beliefs at how in tune women are with their bodies. My body was telling me loud and clear, even as I messed with its natural rhythm and stressed it out and made it angry.

LISTEN to yourself. YOU are the expert.

So I have a new friend coming next week who will hopefully help me regain that attunement and become the peaceful, happier version of myself...

Daysy fertility awareness monitor. Click the picture to find out more - I'll be doing a write up in a few months when I've got to grips with it :)