This is another one for my babies, my littles.
I recently found myself lost in the world of reminiscing when I thought,
“Will my girls remember the messiness? The mom who struggled to keep a clean house, needed a shower and somehow still managed to make a meal while avoiding the mountain of dishes taking over our kitchen?
They will probably think back to all the awful moments when I was falling apart, taking our sense of calm and clarity down with me.“
-Anxiety and Panic (two of my loudest inner voices)
At first this worried me, but quickly that worry turned to joy.
That’s right, I want my girls to remember the insanity. The chaotic collection of all that we encountered together as a busy, sporadic family.
I don’t have the memories of my mother struggling. I moved around from home to home, family to family, always managing to keep my walls up. Never allowing the emotional connection that came with the recognition of empathy towards a parent, the kind a child feels when they deeply want to help console their mother or father during hard times.
I see my girls experience this feeling themselves. I have even talked about how they comfort me, reminding me of how lucky I am to have them.
However, even as I wrote A Letter to the PPD Struggling Mama: Trust Yourself, I felt that all those horrible, worst moments would somehow lead my girls towards a path of sour memories, at the very least.
Now that I consider the fact that I had to wait until I was a parent before I truly learned about a child’s ability to take something negative and grow it into a positive. (That natural ability to be nurturing and genuinely comforting.)
I realize they learned how to do something that I never did.
I never saw ‘the awful’ because I never knew how long I was going to be in one spot, I didn’t want to get too attached and make it harder to move on. So, I didn’t allow a connection that could build a bridge towards comforting my legal guardians.
My girls, thank God, never had to bounce from guardian to guardian, so their connections to myself and their father are as pure and strong as they ever could be.
With this, they have seen the messy and more importantly, built a memory of it. They will be able to look back and if they are smart they will learn from my mistakes. The mistakes that caused all the mess. Of course not all of those are avoidable, Postpartum Depression for instance simply swooped in and took over, never giving me much of a choice.
At least my littles will have the memory of someone who faced it. Someone they can come to who has been there, been scared, been a mess and made it out of there. They can come to me with questions, concerns and experiences of their own.
They have a messy mother to relate to.
That alone gives me all the warmth inside I need to know the chaos is not just worth it, it has a purpose.
The ugly moments are building a connection between my children and I, yet again in the most unexpected of ways.
For more on parenting through the ugliest moments check out the link(s) below:
Great Verses Good; Struggles of Motherhood
Getting Through the Ugly Days of Parenting
15 Steps To Handling An Angry Little Person