May 10, 2015. I was with my parents, with my daughter, my dog, and a duffle bag of my daughters clothes. I had been supported and encouraged and physically given a shower for the first time in 5 days by these beloved parents (yes I was 32 years old). My mom gifted me a necklace disk charm with my initials and my daughters initials. I had a few strawberries and a few sips of a mimosa. That was also the day I started running again, fast, aggressive, sickening, tears streaming, asking for different pain, kind-of running. My parents honored me and didn’t host anything like they typically do because I just didn’t want to see anyone or function beyond the shower and putting clean clothes on and loving my daughter.
I know this doesn’t show me in the best light. Mom’s aren’t supposed to discuss their lowest point. I shouldn’t show vulnerability in the way that I, as a human/mom/employee, could be compromised. BTW, that’s all complete horse shit. I, and many others, can become momentarily broken multiple times in life.
There is a crumbling, a DEMO DAY, that occurs sometimes. And until the debris and earthen dust settles from the explosions, cranes and wrecking balls can you see the sun and possibility. Not many see opportunity in discussing the debris moment in their lives… Well, here I stand, dust stained and having respiratory problems.
My first mothers day was 6 days after finding out my husband was having an affair.
The feeling I had while holding my 8 month old ignited a Fire and washed immediately with a Flood (repeat 1000x). Becoming a mom connects missing links that you can survive without, you can live never knowing what they are and that doesn’t change the epic-ness of a person. But these components were added to me in 2014 and with each pivot, trauma, and decision - the links continue to become stronger.
I also found a safe place to be physically. I remember thinking during my first shower, and finally getting off of my parents living room floor, that if I didn’t have them where would I have gone? How would I have ensured my daughter was safe. On top of that, the day I found out about the affair I was in an airport waiting for a flight to get to a project meeting with a good bit of pressure as I was going on behalf of a partner and to represent the client. My dad already was planning to pick up my daughter from daycare with the anticipation of my husband picking her up from them on his way back into town. When I found out about what my husband had been doing while he worked away from home during the week for months and months, I texted my dad to keep my daughter and put her to bed, my plans changed and I was coming back home. (period, that was it, I wasn’t able to face my dad yet).
But truly, I wouldn’t have had a place to go and I would have ended up sleeping on a loveseat in my marital home. I couldn’t and still haven’t directly told my sister what happened. I have no idea why I’ve been adverse to saying the words to her other than I know she is still close to my ex. And at the immediate time I still wasn’t fully talking and close with my brother again (like I’ve said in the past posts that I lost and gained my brother). With all that feeling and fear I have a better perspective on the amount of people that stay in a marriage or relationship that is unhealthy, deceitful and dangerous when there isn’t a sense of place somewhere else. That thought and understanding of how blessed I was to have parents close by, who left their judgement to the side to accept me back into their home while I navigated a failed marriage, motherhood and trying to build a career - it encourages me to be open and offering to others in my life, that anyone can feel welcome and safe in my home no matter what.
Cut to today - 2021
I spent the day yesterday watching the heart outside of my body (small human) - wake up happy in the home we own, ride a horse she loves every weekend, go on an adventure with friends, to being tucked back into bed at home.
My daughter started singing in the car on her own, without music, Vance Joy Fire and The Flood
It fully washed over me in our hour long car ride how powerful those words are between us. Yes, the song is about turmoil within a romantic relationship and how one partner will always see the best in the ugly of someone else. But turn that mindset to a mother and her child, and it vibrated with me… especially seeing my daughter in the rearview mirror singing with full conviction and emotion while looking out the window as we wound through country roads. Her voice was confident and clear.
"You're the fire and the flood
And I'll always feel you in my blood
Everything is fine
When your hand is resting next to mine
Next to mine
You're the fire and the flood"
The extreme feeling of protection I have for my daughter is overwhelming. However, with that, I still feel like I give her a lot of independence and I don’t shelter her from everything. We have a lot of very open, age appropriate, conversation. She showers with me most times and we speak very body positive about ourselves and each other. We talk about life and death. We listen to all types of music to hear the story and rhythm. We workout together and meditate. We have full moon, half moon and new moon ceremonies just to talk about what we want more of and what we want to let go of. I have the most soul rich human in my life (I know I’m biased).
She can be a fire - wild and unpredictable, impassioned and driven, hell on wheels with a committed waterfall laugh.
She can be a flood - sensitive and flexible, calming and empathic, finding all the cracks to fill, scorching out anything left smoldering, intense and forceful at first and finding compromise in the end.
Being a mother creates a different spirit inside. It feels like a wildflower field, beautiful with hidden thorns, a self supporting ecosystem beneath the tips of the tall grasses and stems. Where there are pathways tamped down by curious feet and wandering hearts. A space of giggles, and warm sun, and soft pops from dragonflies playing in midair and the grass finding sounds of waves in the breeze. Sweaty hair lines and cold water.
Being a mother isn’t always all of that - but I certainly come back to that space more often than not.
I see myself very clearly when watching my daughter. I see who I was before the walls and cages went up around and in me. And each time I’m present in that space with her a lock falls off a cage and a rock tumbles down a wall. However, she is not my savior. She is not my best friend. She is not the keeper of my happiness. She is the guide. She is the suggestion of options. She is the living reminder that every moment has purpose. And she is all of these things without knowing it which just makes it outrageously powerful.
I hate that she doesn’t have a mom and dad living under the same roof.
But a roof, and walls, and things cannot wash away betrayal, fury, discontent, and unhappiness. Children deserve to be raised with love and honesty. I don’t agree with “stay together for the children” because, to me, that means compromising your joy thus subconsciously and consciously telling your children loud and clear - your feelings don’t matter once you made a commitment. I applaud those that have come out the other side from affairs, addiction, lies, unforeseen bankruptcy, still married. I remember my doctor saying to me “it’s your choice and none of them are wrong. You either Forgive, Forget and Move On together; or, you simply move on.”
I tried to forgive, forget and move on with my ex for 1.5 years following that fateful day. I had this inner need to prove something, to redeem myself. Yet, that whole time I knew I would make it official to leave. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look my daughter in the face when she is older and asking questions. Or when she goes through a heartbreak of her own, I felt the knowing that I wouldn’t authentically be able to support her if I didn’t make a choice for myself that honored what I, what any woman, deserves. 
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