Twenty, Twenty-Three: Part Two

Becoming a grandparent is the next level of self-discovery. I am calling this stage of my life “the doctorate phase.” Without the previous education, I would not have been able to see this milestone quite the way I have. Being introduced for the first time as “Gigi” felt like a rebirth. The moment I met my first granddaughter, and the new version of my daughter I hit a new summit of emotions. Pride, joy, love, thrill, shock, disbelief (there are TWO), and a butt load of other snippets of feelings babbled through me like a stream in late spring. No one tells you that your children look different when they become a parent. She went into that operating room as my little girl and came out a mother.

It was a gift to be able to have the time to be with them all in the hospital and be of support. They both moved through the event making it look easy. Watching my son-in-law’s nervous energy combined with all the other emotions he was processing was poetic. He was perfect. It was in no way surprising to see him be the epitome of husband and father. I tear up all the time just being around them. There is so much peace I feel knowing how exact they are for each other.

One of my previous blogs talks about the intention I had for the summer, and it ended up being very different. Instead of action packed, I was granted the grace to sit still and truly experience the girls being born. I had time to truly embrace this new facet of my own existence! Being in this isolation phase I’m in, I was fighting with the universe over my own desires. I know now, why I have been in this isolation phase. It’s taken me months to finally pinpoint why I have felt the way I have. Winona and Hannah’s birth brought to light some hugely unresolved discontent. In a way, they have forced me to acknowledge what I am hoping is the last big hole I need to fill.

The conversations with my daughter are of course full of baby talk and comparisons of her own youth. We have very different things to talk about and relate to one another. This is really the first big thing we have with each other to truly connect over. One of my favorite statements she’s made so far is, “I just want them to love me.” I looked her right in the eyes and emphatically agreed! That right there is the biggest pain and joy of being a mother. The love you instantly feel for your child is incomparable. It’s so powerful and hard to explain. But when someone else gets it, it doesn’t need any words. It’s truly a feeling. It was super cool to hear her say that out loud.

My heart needed to hear it. It instantly brought all the intentions surrounding nearly every decision I’ve ever made being rooted in my kids’ opinion of me. The biggest worry I have is that my kids know how much I love them and how much they mean to me. I hope they understand the way I love and can feel it as much as I want them to.

This year I have probably cried more than I have in the last ten. I’ve shut so many things down under the guise of self-preservation that tears have struggled to manifest. It’s been frustrating because sometimes all I need is a good cry. This year, the tears were mostly joyous tears. However, when I was asking the universe in meditation, why do I have everything I’ve asked for and I’m still feeling sad? Cried big tears over that frustration. When the answer came, I laughed out loud.

It’s grief. Of course, it’s grief.

Figuring out exactly what I’m grieving took me by surprise. This next bit, I wish, came with some kind of warning and it’s also a major reason why I have profoundly missed my mother these past months. I have been grieving the life I will never experience. You could have knocked me over with a feather when it all clicked into comprehension. Not only did I understand the grief, but I also understood motherhood. I instantly wanted to talk to my mother.

I’ve gotten everything I’ve asked for and I’m still feeling sad.

Nearly everything that has come to fruition in the last five years have been desires and intentions that have been set post-divorce. The dream of homeownership was certainly there when I was married, but the details of the rest of my world have been goals set out of survival. They’re goals I’ve set absent a marriage or a partner. My fourteen-year-old self surely didn’t see this age being single and becoming Gigi without a PopPop.

Before anyone gets any wild ideas that this somehow translates to me wanting that life back, let me assure you I the only thing I would want more is a bath of lemon juice after my body is pulled over blades of paper. The grief I have been hasn’t been the marriage I had, but rather the marriage and life I wanted but didn’t have. I have an old letter I wrote to myself from around the time I was fourteen. I didn’t name the person (I remember who it was), but I described him. Kind of proud of myself for describing his character and not physically. I wrote about his career, spirituality, character, and even wrote about him thinking I was the most wonderful person. These are all things I still want out of a partner, 30 years later.

We all want better for our children. What this past year has shown me is my daughter is better! She’s better than me at so many things. Not one of them makes me feel anything less than pride. She has the life I wanted for myself. So, this grief is bizarre. As I look at the world I live in, I see my daughter doing exactly what we should want for our kids. We want to see them succeed and not go through the same pains we did. It is surreal to look at her life and see nothing but accomplishment. They’re not without challenges, I’m not looking at this with rose colored glasses. But, when I look at what matters, they have so much right.

Riddle me this, Batman?! How do you process pride and grief simultaneously? The answer, very carefully. There’s a sense of duality for me right now. Both states of emotion are intensely real and valid. But it’s a dance to separate them sometimes. This grief hit me and with the punch came facing some delusions. Am I truly as happy as I claim to be? How can I possibly be this happy and feel this sad? Is mind over matter healthy? How true is this professed peace, really?

Even though this life doesn’t look like I wanted it to, I am nevertheless proud of it. For months this year I was really worried I was about to topple into a deep depression. It makes me happy that I have figured out the underlying trigger so I can process it. I’m starting the new year with a better understanding of the control I have in defining happiness. It comes in different shapes and sizes. Happiness is entirely subjective. No one can tell you what will make you happy. This year has been the education of my own definition. I went into the year 2023 with a good idea. I’m ending it with an understanding.