She tested me this week too, as all toddlers do, but I'm learning to take it in stride.  She wants to know that when she tests me, I will not freak out, or get angry, or sit in a puddle on the floor and cry.  She wants (and needs) to know that I can handle it.  She wants to know that I want to handle it, that I am up for the challenge and that I will not run away, or decide that I'm not cut out for this job and quit.  She is testing her own ground and her safety in this relationship, and my ability to swiftly catch and return her curve balls will build security and trust.  I really, really want to give her these things.  

So I need to step up, chill out, and constantly, consciously, open my heart to her.  She is not fundamentally trying to make me crazy, even if it feels like it sometimes.  She is experimenting, exploring, learning, and wondering -- what are my boundaries?  What really matters in the world?  Will Mom react the same way when I throw food on the floor vs. when I run out into the street?  She wants to know what is safe vs. what is dangerous, and she wants to know I will always be here to hold her.

I had a Chi Nei Tsang session on Thursday.  It was my first professional experience with this work, and I think it's the right kind of therapy for me right now.  Somatic + meditative + visceral + emotional.  The practitioner is an energetically clear being with bright knowing eyes and a lot of heart.  It was a powerful session and tears flowed, and I was able to clearly acknowledge my resistance to raising a child without George, and the fact that George was my rock, my pillar, the thing that held "family" together for me.  Without George, I do not want a family, children, a life of perpetual responsibility for another human life.  I wanted to share this responsibility with someone, and not just "someone", but George.

He was The One.  The only one I said "Yes" to.  Not only because I loved him, but also because I knew he would hold us together when things got rough, and that together we would figure it out and win.  And so I said "Yes", and then he disappeared, conveniently 9 days before our daughter was born into the world.  And I have been scared shitless ever since, about raising this child on my own.  I am so scared that sometimes I cannot function.

I don't want this.  I don't know how to do this.  I did not choose this.  
These words repeat in the core of my being and it is ALL OUT OF FEAR.

It is not out of lack of desire to have a child, or a lack of desire to raise her alone, or a lack of desire to embark on a relationship that is the most important relationship of my life.  It is FEAR that is causing all of this "No" noise, this internal tantrum, this kicking and screaming about how I do not want to do this alone.

I am scared I will fail.  I am scared I am too tired.  I am scared I am too weak.  I am scared because there is no one else to share the blame when something goes wrong (and things will, sometimes, go wrong).  

As Nova enters toddler-hood and a more dynamic bi-directional relationship evolves between us, all of my fears are triggered.  Her comprehension is high, her verbal communication is developing quickly, and her perception is keen.  I am constantly reacting to her, in both positive and negative ways, and she is reacting to me.  She is, in fact, a mirror to me.  If she is acting out of sorts, I must wonder if I am falling short somewhere.  When she runs to give me a hug, I know I'm doing something right.

And it is, it is all on me.  She is my responsibility, and this relationship between me and her is what everything else stands upon.  George is no longer the pillar.  I am.  I am holding this family up, I am holding it together, I am the only one to make it strong.  Nova is here, and she is entirely present for me, ready and willing with a big open heart to love and be loved.  If there is any part of me that feels angry, or defeated, or is looking for a crutch or the exit door, then I will fail her.  

​This relationship is the lesson of my life.  I used to think that losing George was, but I was mistaken.  My greatest teacher is, without a doubt, Nova.  This child that I created inside of my body is already stretching me and challenging me and changing me in ways that no other human could.  I have nothing else, and no one else, to hide behind.  She is a test of my true desire and willingness to be better than I am.  To give of myself freely, to shed old patterns, to relinquish self pity, and to dive into the wild wide unknown.

I have been tolerating parenthood, not enjoying it.  I have had so much resistance to the circumstances surrounding my entry into motherhood that I have been merely plodding along, coping, trying my best to bond with Nova and be a good parent and keep a nice home and keep her alive, but I have not been enjoying it.  I have been doing it because I feel I have been forced to do it.  It has been like a job, and for the most part I have been good at my job -- but this is not how I want to FEEL about my job as a mom.  I want to love this job.  I want to appreciate this job.  I want to enjoy this job, and I want to enjoy Nova.  ​

As she's gotten older it's been easier and easier for me to take time away from her.  She went to Denver for six days without me in September.  She spends 1-2 weekends a month at Judy's.  I am adding more preschool days to her schedule.  I covet this alone time, and I find myself looking forward to these breaks like they are my lifeline.  The days I have with Nova feel empty and scary and sometimes I do not know how I will get through them if we don't have playdates or plans with friends, or a bunch of errands to get done.  

It appears that I do not know how to be with my child.  This is a problem.  And I value my time alone, more than I value my time with her.  This is also a problem.

I do not want to go through the next 17 years feeling this way.  I chose Nova, and she chose me.  We are here now, to accompany each other through life.  I am her mother, her role model, her friend, her playmate, her comfort, her caretaker.  She is my daughter, my teacher, my friend, my playmate, my comfort, my purpose.  These are not the circumstances under which I/we believed we would journey through this relationship, but this is the reality, and I am here, and I have a choice.  Fear and resistance do not get to choose the kind of relationship I have with my child, and I do not want to tolerate parenthood.  I want to embrace and enjoy it.  I want to cultivate patience, curiosity, mindfulness, respect, understanding, flexibility, laughter, joy, and kindness.  I want to be a better parent from the inside out.

I want my daughter to think, feel, and know from the depths of her being that I love her, that I appreciate her individuality, that I am nothing but grateful for her presence in my life.  She has been my greatest source of strength through George's passing and I need to acknowledge her for being exactly who and what she is, in each moment, not who or what she is or isn't in relation to what I expect of her, or what I expected from my life.  Nova is a truly amazing human.  She is here to teach me some incredible life lessons.  I need to open my eyes and ears, slow down, and receive her.  

If we can start there and build upon a solid foundation, then all the things that will make me crazy as she progresses from baby to toddler to school-aged to pre-puberty to puberty to young adulthood, will just be noise.  We will not be fundamentally shaken.  If we can start there, I know we will be okay.  

​(Post written after a greater-than-average challenging week of Nova with croup and extreme discomfort, and Mama with exhaustion and lower-than-average patience, and a lot of crying and whining and tantrums from the both of us.  Sometimes, the lessons of life are forced upon us at the most undesirable times, but I am grateful.)