http://weheartit.com/entry/group/76708
As Sandy and I soaked in the hottub last night, I asked him how he felt about my sharing this struggle with so many folks, through the blog, through conversation, through numerous chat clients. Sandy is so private, and this story is both of ours.
One shocking difference between he and I is my need to unpack everything in front of everyone. If the whole world sees my underwear while I undress, so be it, if their reflection can help me understand what it means.
It is the teacher in me that demands this style of learning. I discovered early that I excelled in classes where I led a study group.
Throughout other emotional trials, especially the ones where I felt no one was openly discussing the topics such as dealing with infertility and pelvic floor issues, I megaphoned my experiences. In some part I tell myself that it is because others do not talk about it that I felt so alone – I didn’t want others to find themselves in the same place. But, also, I think it is simply how I process things.
The choice to be public about my life has rarely worried me. I have no intention of seeking political office. I have no need for the approval of the PTA. But I am finding, that my secrets are not always my own. When we struggled with fertility and eventually chose to use a donor egg, my speaking freely about it then and now will impact Auden. We have no intention of hiding that history from him, but perhaps he would want his own right to disclose these truths.
A few months ago this concern came up with Eliot. Like other curious 9 year old boys, he had done some “research” on the computer leading to materials that I would have preferred he hadn’t found. There was some denying and then confessions, and then there was ample material for discussion with my other parent friends. But it was when I was sharing with someone at work about my experience dealing with this as a mother, I realized that I was also sharing Eliot’s truths without his consent.
A fellow pilates classmate once described her children growing older as the time when they develop their own narratives – ones in which you do not always know all of the characters and certainly no longer control of all aspects of the plot. Eliot’s own narrative is nascent but one that I need to learn how to respect. Auden’s will be as well.
I wonder how it must feel for children of outspoken mothers and fathers who have written about how they were disappointed with parenting or regretted having children. It is the parent’s story – but the publication of it impacts the child.
This began as a post about the discomfort Sandy feels reading what I’ve written detailing my feelings about him knowing that others are reading it as well. I am sorry, Sandy. I truly am. I wish I could speak my truths in a closet and come out renewed.
Unfortunately, I cannot.