Friday, August 04, 2006
Just spoke to my mum a short while ago. I've started a new regime when I speak to her - I've decided I dont need to make life all ok for her, I can listen, but I dont need to add to it. It's been going well so far - we've been having some nice cheerful conversations, and I've not been feeling drained afterwards, which has been lovely. Tonight, after I'd explained about the risk of miscarriages dropping to 5% after 12 weeks, mum still talked rather a lot about miscarriage. All the phone calls I've had with her since (and including) the one when I told her I was pregnant have included mum worrying about miscarriage. I do have a lot of empathy for her, after all the reason why she is worrying about miscarriage is probably related to the fact that she had 3 miscarriages herself before she had me. I dont really want to speculate about her exact reasoning as I feel that's not really my business, and I dont want to put words in her mouth. I am finding it hard though, I am so in love with my baby already, far more than I've ever loved anything else before, yet I'm also so terrified. Like any expectant mother, I'm full of hormones and awareness of all the ways in which my life is going to change, and I'm finding it really hard going. Poor Ian too, having to live with me. Realistically I know I cant protect my child from everything, but I want to give it the best, and I want to feel the best I can about it. Recently I realised that when I was still working, and I felt tired, I would never stop. Rather than ask myself if I was tired and I needed to stop, I would blame myself for the fatigue and push myself harder. It's the perfectionism and fear I've talked about before. The perfectionism wouldn't allow my tiredness, and my fear would push me on deeper and deeper into it. Talking to mum tonight reminded me of the roots of that - as a child I felt responsible for mum's manic depression which I believed was a result of my birth. Her talk of miscarriage and her clinging to misfortune as being the only possible outcome reminds of why I chose perfectionism spurred on by fear as a way of life. Such a shame for both of us! If only mum could enjoy my life, or even better hers, it would be so, so lovely. The love I feel for my child, awakens great love within me, which my practice hints I should share with the world. So I'm trying to. I dont blame mum for my fear and perfectionism, they were afterall the defences that I chose and clung to. In the light of that love though, I find it heartbreaking that someone chooses to wilfully blind themselves from happiness. It's even worse that it's my mum. I think that's why I've often felt so angry about my relationship with mum, I've felt for years responsible for her happiness. Now I'm stepping away I realise that I'm not, and that to be so is an impossible task. I still need to be there for myself in some way too, and not engage with her fears, so all I can do is offer my love - to all I think. Offerings to all sentient beings.