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With the birth of my only daughter, Kristen, in 1983,
I immediately became aware of the importance of my role as a mother.
Since her death in 1985, I have come to fully understand how my
evolving identity as a bereaved and healing mother has impacted
my two boys, Kevin and Brian. The road to that new role and
identity has not been totally smooth. Over the course of my journey
since her death nine years ago, I've struggled through a lot of
hills and valleys. My family has also struggled with me through
my 'identity crisis.'
Along with having a career, all I ever wanted to
be was a mother ~ not a bereaved mother, however. I wouldn't
wish that on anyone. I have never been the same since July 21, 1985.
It's amazing how that one little word, bereaved, has had such an
impact on me and how it has affected my relationships with my family,
as well as with others.
After Kristen died, there were times that I wondered
if I was even considered a mother anymore since we didn't have other
children at the time. I felt stuck in the middle ~ asking myself
"Who am I now?" In my heart I knew I was still a mother, but others
didn't acknowledge it until the births of my sons. Society seemed
to need an ongoing physical proof of one's parenthood ~ I didn't.
Becoming a mother for the second and third time
was filled with bittersweet emotions and fears. Although I was
excited that Kevin and Brian were here, I asked myself if I was
even worthy enough to be entrusted with two more lives! Could I
give them all that they needed, knowing that I felt like half a
person at times? Was I going to be there for them when they needed
me the most or was I going to 'fail' them as I failed Kristen? Those
are pretty tough questions to ask, I realize, but that's how
I felt for a very long time ~ that I failed to protect my child.
I'm ashamed to say that those feelings of failure
have often kept me at a distance from others, as well as my two
boys. Over the last several years, at times, I have retreated
within myself and left the boys 'emotionally abandoned.' It's
a feeling I am quite familiar with ~ having been thrust into
it at age three when my dad died suddenly. His death left my
mom with six children under the age of 10 to raise by herself. Without
realizing it then, I must have felt not only physically abandoned,
but also emotionally abandoned. My mom always told me that I was
angry at the world for a very long time. That's a hurt I have
carried with me for just as long ~ a wound that was quickly reopened
27 years later, when Kristen died.
It wasn't until I finished my graduate degree in December
of 1993, that I finally began to fully tap into and work through
a lot of my buried, yet outwardly expressed, anger and rage at being
left behind. Unfortunately, my family has often been caught in the
middle of this turbulence.
I wanted so badly to have Kristen back, that
when I would look into the boys' eyes, I saw Kristen and not them.
I didn't see them for who they were ~ two loving boys that needed
me, all of me, NOW ~ later may never come. Their lives have
been passing by and I have been missing out emotionally on a good
portion of it. It was as if I was being pulled between two worlds
~ trying to move forward and give of myself, yet at the same time
feeling 'tied up' as if Kristen wasn't ready to 'release' me.
In my mind, I didn't feel that Kristen had given
me permission to go on without her. I hadn't completed my raising
of her to be a giving, productive, healthy and happy adult ~ which
was a special promise I made to myself the day I was married. I
felt I broke that promise and I've spent the last nine years trying
to forgive myself for that ~ up until several months ago when
I experienced a 'spiritual awakening' in which that forgiveness
came. Unrealistic as my thoughts and feelings may have been,
it just goes to show how much we, as parents, emotionally invest
in our children and how much that investment impacts our identity
as a mother or father.
Since having another awakening experience a few months
ago, when Kristen 'released' me and gave me that blessing to
move forward with my life, I have opened my mind and my heart
to my boys. All of my children are the love and light of my life,
whether they are here physically or not. However, because Kevin
and Brian are physically here, I need to be here, all here, for
them now ~ cherishing them for who they are and for what they have
brought to my life.
As my identity as a bereaved and healing mother continues
to evolve, my boys are helping me move forward toward becoming more
'alive and loving.' Children have that special gift of opening our
minds and hearts, even wounded ones. I am proud to say that I
love Kevin and Brian with all my heart and I am forever thankful
for having them here to teach me once again to fully live and love.
Deb Lee Gould, Director
FOD Family Support Group
November 16, 1994
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