Someone today asked if I had children and, for the first time in my life, I could legitimately say, “No.”
I have birthed two human beings. Miscarried two more. The end result, for me, turns out to be the same; none remain, albeit for different causes.
The first, a son, prefers the lies of his adoptive parent to the truth of court records. So be it.
The second, a daughter, prefers the false narrative of “innocence wounded without cause” to the truth of her poor choices bringing harsh consequences. So be it.
Both would tell you I didn’t love them, and neither seem to be able, let alone willing, to consider the facts of history independently of their feelings or biases or apparent preferences.
That I am still writing about either ought to be informative, but it doesn’t seem so.
Neither have ever been interested in (capable of?) empathy in relation to me and both seem unable or unwilling to acknowledge or even accept the fact that (until recently), I have tried and tried and tried and tried to find a way to talk to them both and become closer.
See, it took me some time to understand that they could not afford to consider things from any view but their own.
Admittedly, I had to spend the time considering everything from their perspective, which, inevitably, brings me to the realization that, but for a matter of degree and a universe of better choices, we are the same.
Neither yet know or contemplate how this affects their day to day life, or those they wish most to show affection, care, and love. Which means they’re going to have their own version “of this feeling and situation” later in life.
That thought is sorrowful to me. Of all the things I hoped for either of them, that they never have to deal with any of these feelings or situations has always been top of the list.
But let’s face it, reconcilation requires active participants and they just aren’t interested. All I ever had is acrimony, avoidance, accusations, and anger from either of them.
Which is, of course, why I wind up withdrawing and abandoning the effort.
I’m sure the story from their seat sounds very different. But that’s merely proof that reconcilation was never their interest. All truth is a blend of views and beliefs that willingly choose to coexist.
I accept and have acknowledged their versions of our story. They refuse to accord me the same.
Do I have children? I look around and answer honestly, “No, there are no children here.”
Do I have family? I look around and answer honestly, “No, it’s just my husband and I.”
Slow walking and mindful steps… and so it goes.