Am I Up to the Task?

(I had removed this post, but I'm reposting it with permission from 'my first born')

I have never really forgiven myself for the mother-I-wasn't for my first born son.

I was young. At age 17, I was pregnant, married and living in an abusive relationship. Our baby was born and I was still a very spoiled child myself. I had little to give and this young, innocent child was instantly a victim of my neglect.

Time went on and I bailed out of the marriage. It all happened too fast. I was 18 years old and I had moved back home with my baby. My mom carried the parental role while I grew up.

The first thing I did was get a job ... then another. I worked 2 jobs for just over a year, bought a condo and at age 19 I was finally able to step up to the plate and be a 'mom'.

Then ... I backtracked and remarried my exhusband. Little did I know then, where that road would take us.Of course the abuse continued. Abuse is a funny thing. You can feel things escalating. They finally erupt. And when there are physical marks that portray the abuse to the abuser ... there is remorse. The honeymoon phase. As long as he was remorseful and the honeymoon phase followed the months that preceded it ... I stayed or kept going back.

The words hurled between us didn't carry a physical scar. That pain was much deeper. But the pain that was deepest of all was being carried quietly within the soul of our perfect child.

Yes, perfect. I can remember thinking that he was too perfect. It's funny that I remember that and that he just recalled a little story this past weekend where he was running around the house giddy with glee and freedom of fear when his dad went off to work one time. And when I walked in the door, he became the perfect child (his words).

Why was I so blind to his pain and fear? I wish upon wishes that I could turn back the clock and erase the 10 year cycle of abuse that we lived. I wish that I had been wise enough to put myself in my child's shoes and rescue him.

I guess I'm grateful that I rescued us at all. We walked away from that life, that city and that province.

At age 27, we started a new life. My oldest son was 9 years old and I had a 3 month old child. Finally, finally ... I saw the light. I had to save my children. And in doing so, I would save myself.

I could never get my oldest son to talk to me about those first 9 years. I tried ... and I tried to voice aloud to him, what I might think if I was in his shoes. I tried to open up the communication. But he had spent his first 9 years living in fear. Why would I think that it would be that easy? Why didn't we go to counselling back then?

But we kept moving forward. My perfect child got into trouble. At age 12, the police were involved. It was beyond frightening to think that he was on the cusp of his teenage years and it was beginning. We were going to become one of those single-parent-with-children-in-trouble-statistics. So I came down hard on him. Too hard ...

Things didn't get better. We endured the teen years and by the time he graduated from school, our relationship was beyond tenuous. It finally reached the point where I could no longer see him. I saw his father when I looked at him. I knew that it wasn't healthy for either one of us for him to live with me. He was finished school, he had a job, a car and had just gotten paid. And I had him move out.

His pleas to me at the time were "I'll pay rent ... I'll get counselling ... I'll do whatever it takes ..." But I was empty. I had nothing left in me to give at the time. And I turned my back.

There are so many forks in the road, where looking back I can see the error of my ways. In almost every case, I was beyond empty when I was at those turning points. When I abandoned my relationships ... I gave it my all, until I had nothing left to give. To work on saving something that I had already spent all of my energy trying to save while I was living it, wasn't even comprehensible to me at the time. I can remember the feeling and the rationale behind my thoughts. But it doesn't make it right.

Throughout the years since then, my oldest son and I rebuilt a very fragile relationship. Each encounter got a little bit better. I wrote him cards, letters and an email to try to put a voice to my guilt and open up a dialogue between us. Then you get to the point where you think 'I write too much' ... I thought I would just follow up in positive actions from this point on. It was small, but I thought we were getting to a better place. We weren't there yet. But it was better than it was. I never let go of the guilt ... but I settled for 'better'.

Fast forward to this past weekend. He called me. I really thought that he was coming to tell me some good news. I desperately tried not to get my hopes up but the little voice inside of me was saying "What else could it be??" He is in the best place in his life so far. He has had a long term (10 years) relationship with the most wonderful girl I could ever hope he would find. They bought a house, he has been working at his job for over a year, they were aspiring to build a new house ... their future seemed certain.

But nothing in this life is certain.

My son's life is turned upside down right now. His relationship has ended ... his girlfriend sounds as empty as I was when I walked away from my 'forever relationships'. She is spent.

And he is telling her "... I'll get married ... I'll get counselling ... I'll do whatever it takes ..."

And he came to me. It's time to be the mother that he always needed.

...

Am I up to the task?