Accepting powerlessness

I had a lovely low-key 40th yesterday. Pretty much a regular day as a SAHM - grocery shopping in the morning and then I went to cafe for some quality "me time" while my daughter was at Kindy and chilled out and read a mag. It was great. I had a few birthday ph calls, texts and emails and birthday deliveries which was nice. I certainly felt the love!

Around noon a courier van arrived with a big bunch of helium balloons from my sister and niece in Australia and a big bunch of flowers from my husband. Of course my almost-three and a half year old assumed the balloons were for her and got quite attached to them. I even tied them to the buggy on our walk to Kindy and back!

We attempted to have a wee family birthday dinner but it kind of went to custard. I made home-made pizza followed by chocolate cake (which my husband baked the night before). When a friend and her three year old turned up bearing gifts, I was down the drive-way retrieving some balloons another friend put on our letterbox. My husband had tied the balloons to our daughter's wrist, she went inside, he took the balloons off her wrist and then she dashed outside again. It was a disaster waiting to happen - helium balloons, a three year old and a windy day. When I came back my husband and daughter were standing looking very stunned outside our house as the (helium) balloons had escaped my daughter's grasp. My husband pointed and we all watched helplessfully as the balloons that were now small but distinct dots were rapidly swept into the distance.

I was quite upset but our daughter took it really badly. She cried for a good hour and couldn't understand why one of us couldn't just climb on the roof and reach up into the sky and get the balloons! When she calmed down, she eventually grasped the concept that the balloons were gone for good and there was nothing we could do to get them back. I said to my husband it was actually the first great loss she's experienced in her wee life. As parents all we can do is let her feel her feelings and help give her the skills to cope with loss.

Of course, none of us know what life will throw at us - what losses we will endure, just that there will be inevitably some of them. I felt a pang of sadness as the balloons drifted away. I loved the balloons - they were colourful, fun and one of the most original birthday presents I was ever given. They brightened my day - and my daughter's (!) for a few short hours and then they were gone - perhaps bringing joy to others as they flew across Nelson to God-knows-where!

Yesterday I got a text from a close friend saying she'd had her second child - the day before my birthday. I was genuinely happy for her. I still have elements of the why-didn't-it-happen-to-me (another child) especially when others are blessed with their bundles of joy, but I seem to have a greater deal of acceptance these days around the simple fact that it didn't happen. As I keep saying, I still believe it could perhaps happen for me but I'm not holding my breath anymore. It really feels like it's time for me to move on - and I have already started doing so.

I still have to protect and be gentle with myself, however as the desire to have another baby is still very much there. I just don't feel as riddled with jealousy and resentment as I once was. I"m not an avid MOT-hater; yet at the same time, I don't purposefully seek out MOTs to hang with. The feelings of grief and loss are there but they don't overwhelm me as much.

I suppose several things have contributed to this such as leaving Playgroup and only going to Music every now and then - these were the environments I found to be extremely challenging as they were riddled with MOTS and bumps. My daughter starting Kindy this month has just reinforced the fact I'm in a new phase in motherhood and I am enjoying having some free time in the afternoons.

Turning 40 is helping turn things around too - I really want to embrace some of the dreams I haven't yet acted on in my life. As I let go of my baby dreams in a I-can't-make-it-happen kind of a way, it isn't unlike the feeling I had as I watched my balloons take off into the late afternoon sky yesterday - and that is a sense of utter and complete powerlessness.