Sunday Newscape Magazine

In last week's column I talked a lot about my oldest girl, and how she was dealing with the events of the past year: her father leaving and immediately moving in with his new girlfriend (my EX friend), going back to day care, having a now work-from-home mom, and finally, the inevitable divorce. Her anger is apparent, her blame pointing in the most logical direction…at me: she who stayed. Her pain is almost palpable – to me that is. But that’s why I’m the Mommy; I notice these things.

My youngest is smart enough to realize there has been a shift in the universe, but not quite attune enough to realize what exactly has gone astray. “She’s too young to understand” – those word are accurate and bring me a great deal of peace. I thank God everyday that she is too young to understand. It saves her pain, and that is something I would give my life for: my children to live a pain-free existence. What mother wouldn’t do that for her children? Nothing can break a mother. And nothing can break a mother quicker than watching her child in pain…be it emotional or physical.

The majority of my anger that is still quite apparent when I talk to or about my ex stems from the pain I know my oldest daughter is in. And in this anger I know I am blessed because my youngest doesn’t share in it. She is a joyful one, my littlest. She has retained her innocence.

Okay, maybe that is not entirely honest, and honest I must be. I believe it is okay for children to see their parents cry. I think it is okay that my girls know I have been hurt, because it shows them that I cared…cared enough to stay, to love, and eventually, to lose. I also know that in showing my girls the pain I experienced at their father leaving, I was taking a part of their innocence. For this I am truly sorry, but it cannot be undone.

I tried hiding my tears at first, but apparently I cry loudly. I remember the first few times I was found crying was right after my ex left me. I was sitting on the couch, arms crossed over my stomach, bending over and rocking back and forth. My girls were outside playing. I tried my best to stifle my tears, to not make a sound, but they must have heard me and came inside. What a sight that must have been. From the get go, I was honest about my tears when they asked why I was crying. “I’m sad that your Daddy left,” was always my reply.

Later I did my best to cry after they had gone to sleep. One night I was standing at the kitchen counter, and I had just received some news from my doctor. I was scared. I was angry. I was alone. Standing in the kitchen, holding my phone in one hand, staring dazedly out the window, the doctor’s news still echoing in my head, I realized just how truly alone I was. At that moment I needed someone I could turn to and be scared with. There was no one. So I cried. And cried. And cried.

Then I heard a small voice behind me say, “Mommy, what’s wrong? Why are you crying.” Damn. Busted. The thing is, I’m human. I know. Try not to be shocked; so many people are. I reacted humanly. I told her I was scared, and then she hugged me. And I took that hug and held on for dear life.

Fortunately, my youngest didn’t hear me that time. Why fortunately? Because she is a sympathy crier. It’s the saddest thing a parent could ever see. Her giant blue eyes well up with tears and she wavers out a, “Why are you crying Mommy? Don’t cry!” before she falls apart. So then, of course, I lose it completely.

Both of my girls have been affected by this divorce, because the one person who loves them more than her own life has been torn apart by it. My hurt has hurt them. I hate that it had to be that way, but it was unavoidable.

This past year has taken a lot from all of us. My girls’ world was tipped upside down, washed in a sea of tears for a while, and then eventually, slowly, tipped right side up again. And let me just say, the world of a six and four year old is incredibly heavy. I know. I had to tilt it to its upright position again.

My girls are bruised but not broken. That old adage, “What does not kill us only makes us stronger” is true. Truer than, “Everything happens for a reason.” That one is crap. But that is for another article. Our family was broken apart. It was actually ripped apart by the actions of two people, two selfish, thoughtless people.

Our family may have been broken apart, but we are not broken. My girls do not come from a broken home any longer. I have worked very hard this past year to make us whole again. But we are a family, and we are stronger than most because we have to be.

Life is half chance and half choice. I used to find myself achingly jealous of my friends whose marriages and families were still “intact.” I no longer am due to this realization. It honestly could have been any one of their husbands that this woman set her sights on. It was chance that she looked at mine, and it was their choices that resulted in the shift in our family.

I love my little family. I love what we have overcome, where we have ended up, and our love for each other, which is so much stronger than it ever was. Yes, I do still have to answer the question, “You won’t ever leave, will you Mommy?” daily. This breaks my heart that they wonder this, that their sense of security has been so badly shaken. However, I know that this will pass with time. My consistency in loving them will restore their faith and abolish their fears.

Do I still believe that letting my children see my tears was okay? Yes. I do. My tears are the only memory they will have that I ever loved their father. Too young to remember the love their father and I shared, my tears are a testament to my marriage and the great loss it was to us all. Also, my tears allowed them to shed their own. Tears and Time are two of the greatest healers. And now, enough have passed so that my girls and I can move on. Yes, our family is different; and I thank God every day for that difference.