I was suddenly compelled to write tonight. As I was putting my toddler to sleep for the second time in one night; 5 books, a conversation on where babies come from, two rounds of tooth brushing, one hard boiled egg and two bowls of black beans later… I felt such a strong similarity between the experience of going through a divorce and that of being a toddler. The level of vulnerability between these two life stages may quite possibly the same. I’ve watched in awe at this amazing little person go through a tidal wave of emotion, learning, challenge and growth- often all in one day! In the same day she may be searching for some understanding of how a baby gets into a belly, working hard to remember that the meal we eat first thing in the morning is called breakfast and break down in tears when I don’t have the correct doll ‘bring’ her a drink of water. And truth be told, my tidal waves of emotion might not be far off in their intensity. I might end up in tears over there being no light bulbs in the house while keeping a level headed calm during a mediation meeting and later feel as if I know nothing and am starting all over from scratch again.
It used to be (and occasionally still is) that Stella’s vulnerability is too much for me to take, because it can mirror my own so closely that it’s scary. It was hard enough for me to feel that vulnerability to life’s changes and experience the sense of powerlessness that comes during such a life transition. But to see it reflected back at me in my child’s eyes was more than I could bear in the beginning.
Now, a year and a half later, something is different. I’ve learned not to fear that vulnerability, but rather to embrace it. I’m realizing that there is so much to be found there- the space to connect to myself and to be open to possibility. I used to think that it was too much- all the scary growth and change that was going on in this house simultaneously. But now I wonder if Stella hasn’t helped to move me deeper in this journey. Children can certainly be overwhelming in their level of intensity but I think they can also remind us to be in the present and truly feel all of it’s highs and lows. Certainly I have reached greater highs with her than I had before her existence. Now I will take the time to dance with her in the messy kitchen with dirty dishes around us and close my eyes and soak her in. Because of her, I have learned to treasure the present moment. And perhaps this strengthens me when I must dive deeper into the loss. As Elizabeth Lesser writes in her book, Broken Open:
“When we descend all the way down to the bottom of a loss, and dwell patiently, with an open heart, in the darkness and pain, we can bring back up with us the sweetness of life and the exhilaration of inner growth. When there is nothing left to lose, we find the true self — the self that is whole, the self that is enough, the self that no longer looks to others for definition, or completion, or anything but companionship on the journey.”
