I sometimes think back to the early years of my kids’ lives. They were born in 2006 and 2007.
Until 2015 I dealt with debilitating back pain. In 2013 I had my first back surgery which didn’t work. In 2015 I had my second surgery and almost 8 years later I’m still doing well.
But those early years saw mom laying on the couch or bed, trips to doctors, emergency rooms, and chiropractors. While we were preparing for my second surgery my daughter was terrified what would happen to her and her brother. She remembered that after the first surgery I couldn’t do much. Who was going to take care of them? Who was going to feed them? This was a very valid concern to a 6.5-year-old.
As I remembered this today, it struck me that my husband and my roles are reversed now. He is frequently in hospital, or at doctors when I can drag him there (men!), in bed and not feeling well. Now they worry about him.
Who is going to be there for them when he cannot?
Parents are central to a child’s survival and psyche. It is from them a lot of our self-talk comes from. It is from them often we learn to rely a lot on others or be very independent.
I worry that because of all the physical pain I was dealing with, which in turn greatly affected my mental health, I was not enough. Add to that dealing with other people in the family’s mental health, and the strain it put on me.
Did I raise children who will sit on a therapist’s couch one day because their mother ruined them? Because she wasn’t emotionally or physically available?
As they are teenagers now, I wonder through these years of their hating me one minute and breaking down to tell you they love you the next.
Did I fill their needs? They were fed and clothed.
Did they know they were loved? I tried to spend quality time with them.
Was it enough?
