My dear moms. Today's column is about strength. Strength in numbers. Strength in one number in particular.The number two.
As you know, my daughter Ella turned two this past week. Now, what do most of us think of when we hear about a child turning two? We think the terrible twos. We think tantrums and trying behaviors and have frightening images of children throwing themselves on the floor kicking and screaming. I admit, I have seen these images in my home already. Twice. I now have had two children who entered that delicate age of two. However, my dear daughter, in perfect form of breaking the norm and showing her strong, independant personality showed me today a very different side of two.
This past week was probably the worst for me in recent, or perhaps even my whole life history. There were two things in my life that proved to be devastating to me this week. Aha, we have that magic number two again.The first was in the form of being given the news that my depression has become so resistent to medication treatment that at this time the only other real option for me is ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy, also known as shock therapy). This, an option which's prominent side effect being memory loss. And as a mom, and person whose identity lies so much with in her kids, the thought of subjecting myself to a treatment that could potentially erase memories of events and times with my children is - for lack of a better word-devistating. Additionally it would risk losing valuable knowledge I have obtained in my current area of study, an area in which people's lives are in my hands, and not one that would allow memories to fail.
The second form of devistation came in the form of the not just crumbling, but shear explosion of the relationship with my husband that I have worked so hard to save and salvage, and that happened in a matter of moments. The work, the second and third and fourth chances I have given him came back and slapped me harder then any thing in my life ever has and I was stunned. Breathless. I literally could not breathe. Wounded by words deeper then I ever knew words were capable of wounding.
It was no wonder then that by the time church came on Sunday, a place I often seek respite and comfort, it was all I had left to try to keep it together. And I failed miserably. I don't know if it was the particular message or the songs or lack of sleep or just events of the week, but I started to cry and could not stop. And then came this tremendous blessing in the form of not a terrible, but the most tremendous two year old.
My daughter, who I had tried to leave at the church nursery and who strongly resisted so I brought her in with me, came up in to my lap, wrapped her arms around me, rested her head on my shoulder and proceeded to gently pat my back as I sat and fought to hold back tears. As the strength left me it was as if it flowed right in to her and she was there to comfort me. I clung to her the remainder of the service, and she didn't let go. She never once pulled away. She just kept patting me with those soft, gentle pats on my back and let me fall apart. And she stayed that way until I let her go. At that moment I saw my daughter in a very different way. She is terrible two no more. In her I saw the same strength and resiliancy I have always seen in myself but that was absent at that time. I saw this stoic, brave, compassionate little girl emerge and it was nothing short of amazing.
Our exchange did not change a thing that happened this week. It did not suddenly make me, mom, better or heal my marriage or my mind. But it gave my heart the greatest squeeze it's ever been given and to my daughter, I am eternally greatful, and in that moment was eternally blessed.
I never thought of two as a strong number. Certainly two is better than one, unless you are talking about the number of devistating life events in a week. But to me today, two is the strongest number.
I do not know what the next weeks have in store for me. Quite frankly, I rather not know. But what I do know, is that no matter what happens I will not be in them alone. For I know I have a family, a daughter who loves me enough that she would take on my pain for me for even that short time, and while that will be neither her job or expectation of her that she continue in that role, she is afterall - only two, her filling it in those moments that she did meant more to me than any subsequent comfort I may receive ever will.
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