When you get older, you look back at your life. Some of it causes you pain. Sometimes, you are blessed with redemption.
At twenty-five, I was divorced and raising a toddler alone. It was rough. I worked fulltime. We lived in a bad part of town — it was all I could afford. I was anxious, and frankly inadequate to the task of parenting alone.
My ex and I made our peace, and he helped where he could. (I have a picture of him building a swingset for Danny in my back yard.) My ex remarried, to a nice young woman who wanted to start a family someday. They moved into a house a few blocks away, and our son enjoyed the attention from all of us. When I enrolled in a two-week night class, they offered a 10-day sleepover so he would have less disruption. After the two weeks ended, we saw the truth. He was happier, less stressed. We agreed he should move in with them. He was four.
It killed me, but he thrived. Ann and Larry had two more children, so my son gained a brother and sister. He had a working dad and a stay-at-home mom. The family went camping and fishing. The three kids spent every other weekend with me. Although I was “Mama Lynne,” it was funny when we’d all be together, and a child would say “Mom,” and Ann and I would both answer.
We developed a style of co-parenting that still makes me proud. Ann was the one who had a hot dinner on the table in the evening, who made clothes for the kids, and helped them with schoolwork and crafts. I was the career mom. The two of us would appear together at school functions, causing the teachers to smile and shake their heads.
Ann, pregnant with Lisa, and me, holding their son, Jeff, on a desert camping trip c. 1984. Danny is off with his dad, riding an ATV.
Over the thirty-plus years since then, our two families have endured some major challenges, but now Larry, Ann, and I are senior citizens. We love each other like family. I think more people should follow our example, and do what’s best for the kids.
But there is a dark place in my soul that sometimes feels grief over not being enough. Like I failed as a mother.
One day, my son, now an adult, heard me utter some form of guilt, and he said, “Mom, if you keep telling me what a rotten childhood I had, pretty soon I’m going to believe you.”
I shut my mouth and hugged him, absolved.
Hi Lynne! What a great window into your past and your wise choices even when young. It sounds like you did the best you could for your son and in the end it turned out to be good for him, you and everyone touched by the experience. Good for you for not thinking you had to compete with your ex-husband’s new wife. That takes a lot of courage. Happy Mother’s Day to you! ~Kathy
Thanks Kathy! I appreciate your kind words.
Beautiful message Lynne. I wish this post could be shared with all blended families around the world. You made peace with your ex and his new spouse and selflessly put your own needs aside in the best interest of your son. All children should be so blessed to have parents like you.
Well, it was more that I wasn’t very capable as a mother (27 years old, single, daughter of a violent upbringing) and thank God Ann and Larry were there to help me. And I got to be part of their family as a bonus. I was at their house when they came home from the hospital with their first baby! I spent one Christmas eve on their couch because Danny was going to get a really neat gift the next morning and they wanted me to be able to share in that. For several Christmases in a row, I’d go with them to the tree farm and Larry would haul my tree home and set it up for me. (Prior to that, we’d wander around, all of us, picking out two trees, one for each home.) Our families were so intertwined, and we still are. When my Dad lay dying in a hospital in 2008, Ann and her daughter Lisa were two of the first people to show up, and I hadn’t even had the presence of mind to call them. They have been so good to me.
This is a beautiful story. You were courageous then, to have made those choices, and courageous now, to talk about it so candidly. I have a sister (now a senior citizen as well), who made the choice of making peace with her estranged ex-husband and his new wife. Her objective, like yours, was to provide her son with a family. He is now in his 20s, and happy and successful young man. She had some hard years, forgiving a man who was not kind, and reaching out to his new wife, who had done damage to her marriage. She spent the years of her son’s childhood taking care of his half-siblings at times, and being their aunt/mum. She has never regretted her decision and has gained the admiration and respect of her entire family as a result—not to mention the three young people she profoundly affected! Thank you for this post, Lynne.
If only people would just think of the kids. Your nephew clearly benefited. What more can a mother (or aunt) ask?
I read this after finding out I may or may not have a job I was counting on. I went to bed at midnight and got up at 4..I am tired. So that of course makes me more emotional…but your selflessness is inspiring. I hope I used the right word. the word I am really looking for is noble. You did such a noble thing. Sort of like my biological mother…..another noble warrior in my life. I know that you know you did the right thing…and maybe sometimes you feel as though you aren’t enough, but you are….I bet Anne feels as though she wasn’t enough, Hell, Mother Theresa felt like she wasn’t enough. But ask…who wins when I put it out there that I wasn’t enough. No one in your family, certainly not your son and most importantly…you don’t win. And I want you to win. My love to you…..xxoo
Oh, man, Donna, you make me laugh and cry at the same time. What a pair we are. Thanks for your big heart.
You done good. All of you. Beautiful story and wonderful example of what can happen when adults act like adults.
Amen, Sistah.
This is a wonderful story. Three mature adults who put the well being of the little ones first. How could your son not have had the best childhood. I always say about extended families or complicated families (of which our is one) you can never have too many people to love you.
Mom taught us kids this sense of radical inclusiveness. Over the years we had some of the strangest groups of people at holiday dinners, but Mom said, “just because you’re not married anymore doesn’t mean he’s not still our son” or something like that. Love lasts.
Outstanding story. I was moved by it. I raised a child who was passed between homes. HIs therapist is making a mint off his childhood trauma! You did well. I love that you shared this story. Guilt is so huge in all of us, no matter what we do, I am certain. Your son gave you the gift of total absolution. Big hugs.
He did. He is so wise!
As a middle school counselor for 25 years, I commend you, Lynne, on the choices you, Larry and Ann made to put your child first. I saw a few families over the years who were also shining examples of co-parenting.
One of the things that causes the most disruption for children (especially middle school children) is having to constantly move between two households. One of the best solutions I saw over the years was a couple who let the children stay in the “home place” and they (the parents) took turns moving in and out.
Thanks for your vulnerability in sharing your story. (Brené Brown would be proud!)
I am so lucky that Larry and Ann were gracious about it. I feel as if Ann and I are sisters. I know she feels the same.
Nice. Thanks.
My pleasure.
You found a solution that worked for you and your child. While I understand your occasional feelings of guilt, I think you should feel more pride in your accomplishment. You could’ve raised your son to resent what he didn’t have, but instead you raised him to celebrate all he had, including the benefit of two moms who loved him dearly. Loved him enough, in fact, to find a way to love each other and I know that’s not easy for most people in this situation. Great post, lovely story.
And he knows how to fish and camp, thanks to them. Wouldn’t have happened with me. Thanks, Debby.
Such a powerful message, Lynne, a poignant reminder that we are enough even when we feel we have failed. Beautiful! A gift of perspective. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, Kathy. His wise comment snapped my head around! (“You are enough” – I love it.)