Being Charlotte’s mom

As a result of my mother passing, my sister (Charlotte’s birth mom) is suddenly in my life again after many years of having no contact.  Charlotte has been very curious about her little life and we have been answering many questions lately.  She has asked repeatedly to meet my sister and also her older siblings.  We have absolutely wanted more contact with her siblings, but we have been cautious with my sister.  I am still cautious, but she seems to be putting her life back together.  I am happy for her and proud of her progress.  I am completely okay with contact as long as she keeps her life on track and Charlotte wants the contact.

I know Charlotte knows me as her mom but it is hard to share motherhood with another woman, even if that woman is my sister.  What I have to keep remembering is that it simply means Charlotte has even more people to love her.  I feel incredible happiness for Charlotte being able to have that connection with her siblings and my sister, but I also am left with feelings of confusion.  I want so much to protect Charlotte’s heart.  I would be lying if I didn’t say I want to protect mine too.  And despite everything, my heart still breaks for my sister.

So here we are entering a new chapter of our lives.  My sister and I learning how to be sisters again, in whatever capacity that might look like.  Charlotte learning she can be a daughter and sister in two families.  And somewhere along the line all the kids teaching us that the situation isn’t nearly as complicated as the adults think it is.  Except maybe Cooper – the first question he asked was, “Why couldn’t Charlotte stay with you?”   (My sister answered his question with grace and honestly, using the same language we use with the kids:  Charlotte needed to go to a family who could give her all the things I couldn’t give her because I was making a lot of poor choices in life.)

On a side note, I am very, very tall compared to my family members, especially my sister.  She is only about 5’2” and all of her children are tiny.  The oldest is 12…Cooper isn’t much shorter than him. It was hard for me to see him as his real age because of his height.  Now I know how other people view Cooper.

And because I was astounded to see pictures of her older brother when he was baby—Charlotte looks so much like him! (Charlotte on the left for all pictures.)

17 years later

When I was 17 I had to write an essay for the Boettcher Scholarship application.  When I read my essay 17 years later, I realize how many truths it still holds.  The last paragraph reads:

My mother has since faded in and out of our lives, not considering the fact that to call herself a mother is not even relevant in the minds of her children.  Fighting most of the way, I have finally accepted the responsibility and mind-frame of being a mother not only to my siblings, but to myself as well.  In addition to helping develop the characters of my brother and sister, I have also given my dad perseverance and ambition.  As for myself—there is something more to life, always was, and always will be.  A family is ‘supposed’ to be just the way it is.

(I truly believe it was my essay that landed me the Boettcher Scholarship.  My 12th grade AP English teacher helped me ensure every word mattered.  I feel luck to have had so many caring teachers during my academic career.)

Leaping the abyss

It has been a strange couple of weeks for me.  I feel like I have this abyss between my childhood and my adulthood.  It seems so impassable and I don’t know exactly when I made the final leap to the other side.   Seeing my mom and interacting with so many of my family members has left me with vertigo.  I don’t feel like I can hold both sides in me at once.

As an adult, I’m struggling to choose to be around the chaos of my dysfunctional family, when, as I child I had no choice, and desperately wanted to be any where but with my dysfunctional family.  Mostly I feel tired.  Tired of trying not to hurt someone’s feelings.  Tired of trying to connect beyond the simple fact that we are related.  Tired of worrying about if my reaction to the situation is viewed as appropriate.  Tired of being told how to feel.  Tired of feeling like none of this fits in the life I have built for myself.

How is it that I can feel both apathy and grief that I will soon no longer have either of my parents alive?  My parents weren’t parents, but they were the only kind of parents they knew how to be.   I feel like my mom passing will be like the bridge to other side being cut down and I feel incredible sadness equal to a happy relief.

I can finally understand why it takes so many generations to break the cycle of poverty and substance abuse.  The the abyss looks to be impossible to cross from this side.  It is no small feat to take that final leap.