On Becoming an Aunty
When my sister told me she was pregnant, I grieved for three days. I felt sad, afraid, jealous, angry, resentful, regretful and disbelieving . I cried in bed, raged in the car and walked on the beach so long I got shin splints. I could have tried to pretend I was alright… forced myself to have the “instagram” reaction, but when you gloss over the truth of how what you’re actually feeling with what you think you should be, you miss the depth, complexity and gift. It appears neater, but it's isolating and kills the life of your Soul.
It took all the faith, strength and knowing I could muster, to stay calm and centered amidst a hurricane of worry. Have I done enough? Will the cycles I've fought hard to break sneak past me and infect yet another generation? Can I stand it if they do?
On the third day, I felt a spark of joy, that would later turn to a wave of celebration. Still, it took me nine months to get ready.
With new life, our old died. I watched as the news brought up deep-seated wounds in my parents, as we all attempted to reconcile our own childhood and parenting experiences through the present. Banks is over a year old now, and I had moments (many over the last twelve months) where I felt like I was in a weird parallel universe. I struggled to reconcile reality with my ideas about what Tori’s and my lives were going to look like (even though I can see glimpses of the bigger picture now, and it’s not all that dissimilar).
Another thing I struggled with was the feedback I kept getting. People, hearing the news, would say, "Congratulations! You're an aunty. All you have to do is play with them and then give them back when they cry.” I felt sick. What I heard was, it's the parents’ responsibility to raise a child in all the ways that count, everyone else is only there for the surface stuff.
Liz doesn’t have children, so she is still sane enough to have perspective.
Glennon Doyle
This belief perpetuates the cycle of abandonment. It’s the same culture that says a sick child (including one experiencing mental illness) is an anomaly, instead of an expression of the whole family. The same lie that says if you aren’t a mother, you aren’t taken seriously as a caregiver.
Raising children is our most powerful vehicle for changing the world.
Why would I neglect all the skills I have, wisdom I’ve cultivated, and instincts I’ve developed? Why would I leave my sister and her partner alone in the biggest challenge of their life? How, as young adults, are we supposed to exercise our own mothering and fathering abilities unless we’re actively involved in raising new life? How could I NOT be involved in actively loving (verb.) a Soul I care about this deeply?
We are interconnected. We can’t separate ourselves from one another. Part of individuation is looking at where we come from.
I’ve said it before, our treatment of children is going to change drastically in the next decade. The next civil rights movement will be the rights of the child.
Of course it’s harder. It’s tense as hell. Acute emotions, intense encounters and difficult conversations make for a life where you have no choice but to stay awake. For a period, I stepped back. I was exploding everywhere. I couldn’t hold my own wounds, passion and desire while respecting other people’s life walk and choices.
As we navigate some health issues with B - and she lands more of her Soul on the planet - our whole family is being called to level up. Can we be even healthier? Take our lifestyle and diet choices even more seriously? Can we land our own Souls fully, commit even deeper to our own path? Explore, embrace and express even more of our full selves? Are we using all our gargantuan power? We are all better for it. She is teaching us.
You are worthy of the same celebration as the day you arrived.
I've said for a while now each of us gets to treat ourselves like newborns. It makes sense to me we never lose the awe and wonder we're regarded with as we live longer. Why would the fact we’ve survived this long be any less of a miracle than the fact we were gifted this life in the first place?
Welcome to the world, Banks. I’m in awe of you. Being human is a courageous act. You’ll be great at it, you already are.
