Yes, Let's Play This Game Again

A mother's response and the journey to friendship

Hi Love,

Yes, it is very likely you were born with that need to fight. We both had to do a lot of fighting while you were in utero. I was two years out from a full term stillbirth that shattered my heart and left me with a lot of fear, in spite of the overwhelming gratitude of knowing you were coming. I fought fear pretty much every day, if not every moment. Although I tried not to let it surface for the sake of three other young kiddos, I could not shield you. It makes me sad to think of it, that my fear helped to shape you and your heart, but our world was what it was, and we did the best we knew how to do with it. And you turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself.

Oh, my. Those fights over what you wanted to wear! I finally gave up. It became very clear that I had to choose my battles. Clothes in the floor and a mess in the drawers were not worth fighting over. There was this one blue print dress that you loved, though you would change in and out of it multiple times in a day. I loved seeing you in that dress.

You certainly don’t look old enough for all the commotion you caused over wearing that dress!

Remember the year I gave up on trying to home school you and we both went to a local Christian school for 6th grade? You as a student, me as a substitute teacher. We both hated it! But I needed a break from the constant battles over school work. Let someone else do it, I thought. It was a terrible year. Then we came back home for 7th and 8th grade, which in my opinion is the worst time in any kid’s life to be in school. But you were a bit more manageable after that awful year.

Yes, it is so hard to watch the turmoil of growing pains. And fighting was never fun for me the way it was for you. Your dad could meet you head to head, but my heart had a really hard time and I walked away and let the two of you deal with each other. I generally got the update from him after it was over, and my heart hurt for you both. But I didn’t just leave and go read a book. I left and found somewhere to pace and mutter and be angry myself. Angry at you for being so darn argumentative. Angry at your dad for fighting with you. Angry at myself for not being able to stay in there. I didn’t understand at the time, but I didn’t know how to regulate my own nervous system, so I resorted to flight, while your two resorted to fight. Oh, we had so much to learn!

About that notebook we passed back and forth…The date says 1998. You were 11, probably fifth grade, the year before I threw in the towel for a while. While I’m sure it was a sneaky way to teach you grammar and handwriting, I’m also sure it was an effort to try and connect your heart and mine. I never liked it when you pulled away. It’s hard on a mama’s heart.

I do love being in the room with you. I’m so proud of you and all you have done. It’s part of every parent’s heart, I think, that quiet pride in their offspring. Every one of them different, every one of them treasured. You have always been a gift to my heart, my sweet girl.

Yes, I’ll play!

Love,

Your Mama