The following events stay with me always, engraved into my mind, impressions of events, and what kind of mother I need to be.
Nearly a decade ago I had a tragic conversation with a Mother I loved about a child I loved.
Her teenage son was disappointing her and her husband.
In elementary school her son was in the gifted and talented program. But now in High School he was struggling,
She and her husband were frustrated with his lack of effort.
She related everything she and her husband were doing to force their child to succeed.
What upset me the most was her tone and the feeling it gave me. It felt horrible. It sounded to me from her words, that her son was unhappy at school and at home. It sounded to me that their relationship with their son was completely hostile. It sounded to me that they had already gone to far and were past any constructive, building relationship with their child.
I warned her that teenagers loose hope easily and don't see past the dissapointing moment.
"It's not like that". She said. Oh those words have been mispoken by too many wives and mothers.
She asked me how to "make" her child succeed. How to force him and punish into a good student.
I told her, her son needed to know that she and her husband loved him no matter what. I told her that from what she was telling me, that they had almost completely destroyed their relationship with her son, and that they needed to win back love and trust.
I told her, that when her son received failing grades, that she needed to show him love. I told her about the power of showing love in moments of failure. I begged her to start over with her relationship with her son.
I begged her to ask her husband to stop what he was doing. But I knew she couldn't see or understand what was happening.
But the feeling over the phone was overwhelming. It was tragic, it was hopeless. I begged her to see. I tried to explain that a child succeeds when they choose to. I told her stories of children who failed in high School to become great in College and there after.
I testified to her of how when my own son was little and failing, I tried to punish, bully and push my son when he failed miserably, and how that only destroyed him, and how I saw that my son was miserable at home and at school. I realized I needed to change, accept him, and support him as much as possible. That I started over with my relationship with my son. Since then, and that conversation I have seen my boy do amazing things. His test scores are amazing, and he has a drive to accomplish HIS objectives. He has talents that don't fit into any box. I realized I needed to back down and show him love.
She seemed to have the mistaken belief that failed classes in high school doom a child to a life of failure. That is so not true! I loved her boy as many did.
She didn't listen. Even as we ended the conversation I felt anger and frustration with her inability to see what she was doing, her inability to stand up to her husband, and the obvious preventable road they were on. But even then I knew that as I was angry with her not standing up to her husband, I realized that I lacked the courage too, to stand up to mine.
Her son's next report card, it all ended in tragedy. I can never forget the cry my heart made the moment I heard of it.
That tragic event was in the most pivotal week of my life. I myself was enduring the most horrible of abuses, and fearing for the future. I gave birth in the midst of the most intense suffering imaginable to me at the time. All the while wondering at what it all meant. Wondering about the path I was on with my own children, wondering about my husband and his actions toward our children. Wondering if we as a family were on the same path. At the time, it was the most terrifying week of my life. I strove to be brave.
The last day I was in the hospital with my newborn, I was up and pacing in my room. A voice cried out to me, "Stand up to him, stand up for your children. Don't let your husband do this too, to your son. If you can't stand up for yourself, stand up for your children."
Latter that day, my husband came to pick me up from the hospital. I was under threat. He told me that he would leave me as soon as our child was born. And now she was born. I was afraid to offend, afraid that he would leave us a the slightest offense.
Once home I sat on the couch holding my newborn babe, staring into her eyes. My son committed an offense. My husband, in his anger, sent him into the corner for 5 minutes. While in the corner, my husband stood over our son, reprimanding and lecturing, and scolding. When our son did not stand properly, his father raged louder. He sent our son to the garage. Then in the garage, my husband raged loud enough to hear even more. It went on and on.
He then send our son into our bedroom, I sat there on the couch, wondering if my husband had crossed the line. Where was the line I was suppossed to stand up to? At what point was too far? I waited about 45 minutes through it all. Finally I stood up and walked to the door. I decided I would listen, and if his words were to cruel, I would stand up.
I heard my then husband say to our 7 year old son, "If you can't live by my rules, you will have to find a new place to live." Crushed and scared, I opened the door. I walked to the high bed to lean against it to keep me upright. I held my newborn in my arms, I said, "You cannot talk that way to our son." I was so scared. I had never stood up to him like this before. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I knew I didn't want to do to my son, what was done to another.
He was furious. I saw our small boy, crouched in the corner, his hands trembling over his face, crying beyond any ability to reason or understand. How could he not see that? How could he not know he had gone too far?
He grabbed a suitcase and said to me, "You are out of here." And he started packing clothing for me. My other daughter came crying into the room. And as I held my infant, my two year old daughter climbed up my leg and I held her on my hip, leaning against the couch, barely standing, literally still bleading. Our other child ran into the hallway, crying, "Mommy don't go! Mommy don't go!"
It was surreal. In that moment it was though I was out of my body watching events happen. How did I get there? I was a faithful latter day saint woman, who was faithful to God, to her husband, and strove to live a good life. I did everything I was supposed to do. How was this happening? How was my family not blessed? How did my husband become so cruel? How could he do this?
"I'm not going." I said over and over again as he raged, finally he stormed out of the room I don't know where he went or what happened after.
The voice I heard in the hospital over and over again as I paced, "You have to stand up to him for your children. You cannot fail your children. You cannot let him hurt your children." Just after the tragic death of that dear boy,
Oh there is so much more. So much that happened during the birth.
I fail as a mother in so many ways, but this I cannot do, I cannot drive my children to suicide. I must let them always know that I love them.
So many times I see parents struggle with their teenage boys, and I plead with the parents to show the child love. Usually those that need to hear it the most, listen the least.
While I couldn't bear loosing my husband I loved dearly, I understand it was necessary. We are divorced. I have no power over his relationship with his children. It is completely up to him. When I was with him, I didn't have the courage necessary to stand up to him when necessary. And he didn't respect it anyway. But now, when my children are in my home I have the power to love them, and show them I believe in them.
People are not fixed in who they are. They choose each and every day, as children as parents, who they will be.
Each day as a mother I try to choose what kind of mother I will be. It's up to me, it's up to him. As for me and my house, I will love my children. I will strive with them in love through their weaknesses. I will do my best. I will love them.
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