"The world is a looking-glass, and gives back to every man the reflection of his own face. Frown at it, and it will in turn look sourly upon you; laugh at it and with it, and it is a jolly kind companion.” – William Makepeace Thackery
My family, my parents, clearly failed me when I was pregnant with my daughter. No need to rehash that.
My mother and I have spoken about it a number of times.
My father actually apologized to me and said it was his fault I lost my daughter.
I needed desperately to hear them say those things. I also needed to have my daughter’s father apologize and admit he could have changed things and he didn’t. He did. We mended those broken fences long ago.
Hearing those words from the primary parties involved has been HUGELY healing and validating for me. It helped me be a better, less angry person.
Even with their acknowledgements, I could have chosen to stay all busted up and hateful about it. I could have chosen to withdraw from them, distance myself, blame, anger and rage for years.
I chose not to.
Even though some would say I had the right to, or it was understandable, I don’t want to live that way. I don’t want to carry that anger and resentment with me day to day. While some have disagreed with me, I forgive people for ME not for them. For me forgiveness is a healing balm to my own soul – not the souls of others. Anger and hate towards others only hurts me. They could often care less and don’t even know I am carrying it.
Over the past few days, I have found myself being very thankful to my family. That seems so odd at first glance but not on a second glance.
I know, I feel, I believe wholeheartedly that if my daughter ever did decide to meet them, she would be met with open arms. No one would be hushed, embarrassed, angry or doofusey. No one would stare, hang back, no hushed tones.
I can see all members of my family being happy, anxious, and nervous and asking me what they should do or say (or not do or say).
My Dad might be a little silly. He gets this odd, goofy way about him in situations of importance. Like all proper or “smarticle” (cue London Tipton). Hard to explain. He would just want to make a good impression.
My Mom would be the somewhat emotional one. After all, besides me, she is the only one that held my daughter. She would be gentle. Waiting, patient, following my lead but still trying to be open and fun and silly.
My older sister would be the only one I MIGHT worry about. Not that she would have any mal-intent. She wouldn’t. She is just a bit MUCH at times. A bit daft, clueless. She would be perhaps too loving, too open and really freak my daughter out. She would be TOO welcoming. Shit, she freaks me out and I grew up with her.
My brother, the cool cucumber, would be like “Hey…”. He would hang back. Chill. Observe. Maybe move out of his comfort zone and show her his very funny side.
My younger sister would be chatty. She’s the performer in the family anyway. The baby. Since she knows me the best, she would be very in tune with me, with my daughter, and would be trying to make nicey-nice for all.
My nieces and nephews would be somewhat uninterested (due to age not a true lack of interest). My niece that carries the same name as my daughter’s amended name would definitely be a bit too forward and frank. That’s her style. Its not rude but is sometimes lacks a bit of sensitivity (which is odd because she is an extremely sensitive child)
My youngest sister’s daughter would be the same. My oldest niece would be a bit shy, try to make friends. One nephew, my older sisters, oldest son, might also say something a little off.
I am thankful for this.
For even if I never see the day, it warms my heart to know, without question, how it would be.