13 oct 2005
The Journey
by Terese Pritschet
It is the greatest journey of my life. This immersion experience called motherhood has stretched me in unimagined ways. Ironically, twenty years ago I saw this path as a choice laden with limitations. What a surprise to discover that instead of narrowing my world, parenting has been an expansion experience; my life and my heart keep growing bigger, the adventures more exciting, the path pocketed with unexpected challenges and possibilities.
I am the mother of two daughters, 5 years apart. Each of them shines with a beauty and soul that makes me proud to be a part of their lives.
I nearly let this opportunity pass me by.
There was a time when my vision of the future had negated the possibility of having children. I had internalized the limits of my culture: lesbians don’t have children. It was simply not an option.
Fortunately for me, I chose a partner with enough chutzpah and maternal drive to push me into a re-evaluation of my assumed roadblocks to parenting. I dismantled my collection of “why nots” and on Buddha’s birthday seventeen years ago, I became Ellie’s mother.
Even in her early days, this new being glowed with the presence of a wise one. And I glowed with the knowledge that I had helped her come into this world. My contribution was not genetic. Emotionally and spiritually I paved the way for her arrival, and committed myself on every level to assuring her safety and her growth. In many ways this baby became the center of my universe. Five years later, I gave birth to Jesse, a sensitive, strong, playful soul.
Between the two of them, I was enchanted with wonder, and embraced the responsibility wholeheartedly.
Choices about work, social times, money, vacations, home, schools, food. What wasn’t in some way impacted by the fact that I had children? Added to the universal rigors of parenthood, claiming my place as a lesbian mother was a profoundly bold and empowering act.
Now Ellie is moving out into the wider world. My seventeen year old Buddha baby has boarded a plane to Thailand for three months. She is moving out of the center of my universe, and is taking charge of being the center of her own.
Her journey has altered my equilibrium.
My parenting path is at a crossroads.
Things have built gradually toward this moment, this letting go of the old balance, letting go of her, letting go of a huge piece of my identity.
Not that my job as a “mom” is done: I still have a near teen to raise through the high school years. And even after my daughters have both moved on to their own bigger worlds, I will always be a mom. It’s a job with no end.
But the nature of my role as a mom has shifted; I am at the cusp of parenting an adult child, and at the moment, I am shaken by the realization that holding onto her is not an option.
The words of Kahil Gibran were sung at my children’s births, and now I am reminded of the message:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and the daughters of life’s longing for itself.
They come through you, but they are not from you,
and though they are with you,
they belong not to you.
Ellie’s expanding journey necessitates a shift in my own journey; a new time of defining myself, my life, my work.
Everything is as it should be, yet I am grieving the loss of the little ones who demand that constant awareness of their needs. I am moving more slowly, more quietly in these bittersweet days of separation. I don’t want to rush anything. I choose to savor the sensations of this transition, as I cultivate the willingness to meet the challenge of change without dread. For now, I am taking pleasure in slowing down when I can, of sitting in Ellie’s room and letting myself swim in the flood of memories that are her childhood.
Tears fall as I notice the hole in my days that previously were filled with her voice, her needs, her presence. And I smile at the thought of her confident self, navigating the waters of separation on an international scale. She has become a young woman of great potential. A mensch in every sense of the word.
Her journey and my journey have until now been entwined on a day to day basis. The tight weave of our time together is unraveling, yet there is an everlasting thread of connection that can never be broken. Still, the fabric of my days is fundamentally altered. Even with Jesse still at home, I feel a shift. She too is moving away, in an internal, emotional way. I am at the end of a certain chapter of motherhood. There is no one to meet at the bus stop when the school day is over.
And so, I am increasingly free to imagine...
What next?
Terese Pritschet is the mother of 2 incredible teenage daughters. She has spent the past 10 years
transforming a 'bad second grade incident' into a grassroots non-profit called aMaze, which champions safety and belonging for all children and their families. She also teaches yoga at the St. Paul Yoga Center, and volunteers for public schools and progressive causes whenever possible. Terese lives with a daily commitment to Tikun Olam, repair of the world. |
