I never thought I'd have to write you. I never thought you'd be gone. Not like this.
I've missed each of you more than I knew it was possible to miss anyone. The hardest thing is feeling you are angry with me, that I have wronged you and I am to blame for this. Although a larger part of me feels you have been caught in a horrible (for lack of a beeter word) argument betwween your dad and I. You have been triangulated. I keep trying to make sense of it all.
You have been so angry and hurt by my actions. More than anything though, I feel you have been used by your dad to get back at me. And for that I am sorry. I think over and over what could I have done so this wouldn't have happened. But it did happen. It is happenning. It is.
I miss you all so much. I have wanted to die, literally, from the pain, many many times. But you are what keeps me alive. I couldn't do that to you. Whether I am in your lives or not. I could not add that to what you have had to deal with.
I still hear each of your voices calling, "Mom", "Mamma", "Mom!" They are your voices as they were, not as they are today.
The situation is. Sometimes I briefly wonder, what if I didn't marry your father? But I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. And I am so happy I was priveledged to help bring each of ou into the world. Being your mother gave me more joy and love than I ever imagined was possible.
I have fought and fought to see you, talk to you, try to get back in your lives since each of you moved in with your father. I don't blame you. I am sure you are doing the best you can. In writing this I am not trying to condescend to you or imagine in any way I know what is in your minds.
It has been three years since I have seen you. I keep hoping you will be in my life again, I will be in yours. When I think of you I am devastated, my heart hurts. I have been powerless to protect you from pain, and that is all I have wanted to do as your mother--comfort, protect, love and care for you. When you were small and you cried I could pick you up, and comfort you and stop your cries. Now I cannot.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
A Quiet Sunday
I am home today. It's Sunday. And quiet.
Sundays used to be loud around my house. Keegan, my middle son, was especialy loud. This used to drive his dad crazy, who was also loud. If it was just me and Levi in the house there would not be a sound.
My daughter Tanith used to hum while she was busy doing something. She hummed while she drew, while she played her video games. Her humming was reassuring to me. It was a conststant low pitch, hmmmmmmmm, like a low motor. Didn't falter, didn't waver. It represented she was doing something constructive, and most significantly--not bothering her brothers. I could hear her in her room,hmmmmm, hmmmm. She might be dressing her stuffed animals, coloring, playing a video game, hmmmm.
Levi also hummed also for a very long time.
It started when he was a toddler. When he was around 18 months old he would line up his matchbox cars along the edge of the coffee table and hum. He hummed while he ate, too. He hummed as he was engaged in this repetitive activity, and it signifed to me as his mother that he was not in trouble, he was not hurting himself, he was engaged in an activity such as rearranging cars, or his Thomas the Tank Engine trains and I could hear this sound of humming from another room and know he was ok. He stopped humming as a teenager. Years of telling him not to hum (especially while eating, had little effect.)
The sound of Levi's humming , and then Tanith's was soothing to me. It was like reassuring white noise. We later found out the Kime side of the family had many other hummers.
When Keegan was born he was a differnt story altogether. He was a happy, cuddly baby. But he was also loud. He roared. We called him "Keegie-saurus" from a young age. He was talking by 14 months and never stopped. The first word he said was "brother." That progressed to "Levi, Levi, Levi!" And he never stopped talking to Levi or about him, trying to get his older brother's attention. As Keegan became a teenager he was always yelling at Levi to shut up, or telling Tanith to go away, or yelling at his video game. He was either boisterously happy or angry. He was not quiet unless he was asleep.
I miss my children's sounds. Even Keegan yelling, "Levi, shut up!" I'm pretty sure Tanith doesn't hum anymore. She was highly self-conscious already, at eleven years old, and very aware of socially acceptable behavior. Especially of my behavior. She'd say things to me like, "Mom, are you going to wear that?!" Or, "Mom, you talk weird." I'm guessing that was the heading into the being embarrassed of your parents stage. So far, I've missed that stage.
Today it is silent. And I miss the sound of my children. I miss everything about my children. I even miss Tanith criticizing my every move. "Mom, why are you doing that?!"
Sundays used to be loud around my house. Keegan, my middle son, was especialy loud. This used to drive his dad crazy, who was also loud. If it was just me and Levi in the house there would not be a sound.
My daughter Tanith used to hum while she was busy doing something. She hummed while she drew, while she played her video games. Her humming was reassuring to me. It was a conststant low pitch, hmmmmmmmm, like a low motor. Didn't falter, didn't waver. It represented she was doing something constructive, and most significantly--not bothering her brothers. I could hear her in her room,hmmmmm, hmmmm. She might be dressing her stuffed animals, coloring, playing a video game, hmmmm.
Levi also hummed also for a very long time.
It started when he was a toddler. When he was around 18 months old he would line up his matchbox cars along the edge of the coffee table and hum. He hummed while he ate, too. He hummed as he was engaged in this repetitive activity, and it signifed to me as his mother that he was not in trouble, he was not hurting himself, he was engaged in an activity such as rearranging cars, or his Thomas the Tank Engine trains and I could hear this sound of humming from another room and know he was ok. He stopped humming as a teenager. Years of telling him not to hum (especially while eating, had little effect.)
The sound of Levi's humming , and then Tanith's was soothing to me. It was like reassuring white noise. We later found out the Kime side of the family had many other hummers.
When Keegan was born he was a differnt story altogether. He was a happy, cuddly baby. But he was also loud. He roared. We called him "Keegie-saurus" from a young age. He was talking by 14 months and never stopped. The first word he said was "brother." That progressed to "Levi, Levi, Levi!" And he never stopped talking to Levi or about him, trying to get his older brother's attention. As Keegan became a teenager he was always yelling at Levi to shut up, or telling Tanith to go away, or yelling at his video game. He was either boisterously happy or angry. He was not quiet unless he was asleep.
I miss my children's sounds. Even Keegan yelling, "Levi, shut up!" I'm pretty sure Tanith doesn't hum anymore. She was highly self-conscious already, at eleven years old, and very aware of socially acceptable behavior. Especially of my behavior. She'd say things to me like, "Mom, are you going to wear that?!" Or, "Mom, you talk weird." I'm guessing that was the heading into the being embarrassed of your parents stage. So far, I've missed that stage.
Today it is silent. And I miss the sound of my children. I miss everything about my children. I even miss Tanith criticizing my every move. "Mom, why are you doing that?!"
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The Last Time I Saw My Daughter
I work with kids now. I see kids everyday. I work as an Instructional Assistant in Special Education with fourth and fifth graders. I enjoy it. But some days it makes me really sad.
My daughter was in fifth grade--had just graduated actually, and turned eleven, the last time I saw her.
I see little girls every day at work that remind me of my daughter. Skinny, all legs, with thick chestnut hair. Every little girl of around eleven who was skinny and had that auburn chestnut hair used to remind me of my daughter.
I never thought it would be the last time I saw her. She was going for the weekend with her dad, and I had just taken her to LA to a Hillary Duff concert. I bought her all the stuff: Hillary Duff t-shirt, sweat shirt, purse, because I felt so bad for the pain her dad's and my separation was causing her.
She was upset with me when she left. I think I'd asked her to clean her room and she exploded at me and left in a huff when her dad drove up. She left all the Hillary Duff things behind.
My daughter was in fifth grade--had just graduated actually, and turned eleven, the last time I saw her.
I see little girls every day at work that remind me of my daughter. Skinny, all legs, with thick chestnut hair. Every little girl of around eleven who was skinny and had that auburn chestnut hair used to remind me of my daughter.
I never thought it would be the last time I saw her. She was going for the weekend with her dad, and I had just taken her to LA to a Hillary Duff concert. I bought her all the stuff: Hillary Duff t-shirt, sweat shirt, purse, because I felt so bad for the pain her dad's and my separation was causing her.
She was upset with me when she left. I think I'd asked her to clean her room and she exploded at me and left in a huff when her dad drove up. She left all the Hillary Duff things behind.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Forced into retirement
So...it's been almost three years without seeing my kids. Unimaginable. Three years ago it was unimaginable. Three weeks would have seemed like a life time. Christmases, birthdays, have gone by without my children. I have since found out this is called "Parental Alienation Syndrome" and I am the alienated parent. I was a stay-at-home mom. Being a mother to my three children. Until I filed for divorce. And that was the beginning of things to come I could never imagine. Only in nightmares. In paranoid fits, when you can't find your child for a moment in a store and you imagine the worst. That has become my life.
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