As I sat here wondering what to write, tears became sobs. It's not because your piece was sad. It's because I miss my two boys, who are in their 40s now. Dang. I'll have to check my face before I venture out now. And now I'm laughing. I swear, I'm not crazy, just free with emotions.
I love that about you, Dawn. You're unabashed in displaying whatever you feel. You are an incredibly authentic person. In glad my words touched your heart today.
Thank you, Jeannie. When I was young, I kept my emotions hidden. And when I am in a different role, like grief coaching, emotional outbursts do not occur. But I feel safe here inside your energy bubble and free to be myself.
Did I know you are a grief coach? Wow, sounds like our work overlaps quite a bit! More than I realized. And I'm glad you feel that way being in this space, because what I want more than anything is for ALL people to feel safe, seen, heard, and valued. ❤️
I love how you describe the moment on the porch swing when you felt complete with your three daughters, only to find yourself welcoming a son into your life a few years later. It's a beautiful reminder that life has a way of surprising us, and that the unplanned can be just as precious as the planned.
I also just adore the quotes. Six to eight lions. It just seems so reasonable. 😂
This is a beautiful reflection on Joey and being a parent to five amazing children. The quotes are true gems. I love your candor and writing style. I agree parenthood is a blur. I feel it happens slowly and quickly at the same time. With my daughter, I try to savor my moments with her by slowing down time (or my perception of time), but she's 16 now, and it seems like yesterday I first held her in my arms.
Thank you for sharing this Substack space with us, your loyal readers. Reading your work is a true gift.
You know, Beth, I've only recently felt the way you describe here - about time speeding up way too fast - since my oldest turned 14 in November. I find that, more and more, I feel a nostalgia for her young years, when she was giddy and innocent and hadn't yet experienced betrayal. I think I'm beginning to understand what parents of teens mean when they say they have a wistful feeling about their children and miss those early years.
I totally get it. I miss Arielle's younger years a lot. It was so much fun taking her to see magicians, going to tea parties, children's theater, etc. She loved everything we did together. But now she finds everything I want to do with her to be boring. Yet, and this is a positive of the teen years, I can converse with her on an array of topics, and she still likes to do things with me if she's interested. So now I find her new interests and support her.
It’s a totally new parenting terrain, isn’t it, Beth—the teen years? Felicity is similar to Arielle. She thinks adults are boring and wants very little to do with me or my husband, but she occasionally will ask if I can take her shopping or for a smoothie or wants to chat. Even to ask my advice (shock and horror!) sometimes. I find this inner tug-and-pull within me struggle to make sense of what she needs or wants from me at any given moment, and it does try my patience and resolve as a mom every day.
I so enjoy it when you write about your children; it makes me wish I had been a less stressed-out parent when my two were young. I feel like I spent way too much time worrying, nervous, or angry over stupid things.
I have done the same thing, Doreen! I still struggle with excessive worry and anger. I think parenting just tests us, sometimes brings us to the brink, you know? It's terribly challenging and often unrewarding, especially when the children are young.
I loved reading all about sweet Joey. Isn’t it fascinating how children from the same household are each unique!? I felt it while growing up between my own two brothers, and I see it with my husband and his seven siblings. Your essay prompted me to think about my own three children and how differently I related to each of them. Welcoming my first son at 23 was much different than meeting our last baby boy when I was 36! And mothering my daughter was unique in a different way. Thanks for the smile today.
Oh yes, Martha, I wholeheartedly agree! I try to think about how each of my kids will remember me differently, because they experience me differently. And I am a different person at 44 than I was at 29, when Felicity was born. Glad to make you smile today!
Hi Teresa, I'm so sorry about your husband's sudden death. I have heard of similar regrets from other women. I will say this: regret can be a signal at what we still might need to grieve. To me, this is an important step toward accepting what is, instead of what we wish would've or could've been.
I will say that my two boys (46 and 40) are such a comfort to me and a big help. I moved across Missouri to be close to my oldest and family. The younger one came with me. I wish I had more kids because they do give me a purpose in life. I will be grieving my husband forever. He suffered cardiac arrest while driving us to Gettysburg. His last act was to save my life by stopping the truck and putting it in park. Then he died. My oldest jumped on a plane and was by my side before it got dark. The ambulance crew got his heart beating again but he never regained consciousness. It was determined that he had massive brain damage and I decided to have the vent removed and let him go. My husband was a big personality and loved by many. Of course he had to leave us in an unforgettable way. I enjoy your writing and wish the best for Sarah.
Teresa, I will hold this tender memory you shared of your husband's death in my heart today. I want you to know I feel honored that you shared it with me today. You are right that grief, once it enters our lives, never truly leaves us.
I think you're right, Alex, about the "unplanned being just as precious as the planned." I will admit I did not see it that way for many years. In fact, it's only within the last six months or so that I've sensed a shift in my attitude and perception about pretty much everything.
Growing a human inside my body and then birthing the baby was an excruciating trauma for me. I learned last year that many women experience prenatal and postpartum trauma, which I didn't recognize as such until much later. And I don't use the word trauma lightly, which I only mention because it's somewhat of a popular buzzword these days.
Anyway, it's always such a gift to receive your offering here in these spaces on Substack. I am ever grateful to be here with incredible humans like you!
As I sat here wondering what to write, tears became sobs. It's not because your piece was sad. It's because I miss my two boys, who are in their 40s now. Dang. I'll have to check my face before I venture out now. And now I'm laughing. I swear, I'm not crazy, just free with emotions.
I love that about you, Dawn. You're unabashed in displaying whatever you feel. You are an incredibly authentic person. In glad my words touched your heart today.
Thank you, Jeannie. When I was young, I kept my emotions hidden. And when I am in a different role, like grief coaching, emotional outbursts do not occur. But I feel safe here inside your energy bubble and free to be myself.
Did I know you are a grief coach? Wow, sounds like our work overlaps quite a bit! More than I realized. And I'm glad you feel that way being in this space, because what I want more than anything is for ALL people to feel safe, seen, heard, and valued. ❤️
That is so sweet, Dawn. I love that you wear your emotions on your sleeve. You feel your emotions deeply, and that is admirable.
He softens you while you harden from burnout…what a way to put it. 😭 this entire piece is so honest and complexly beautiful. Thank you for sharing. 💕
Oh, Katherine, that means so much to me. Thank you. I am glad it touched your heart.
This is beautiful Jeannie. Just beautiful ❤️
Thank you kindly, Sara. ♥️
I love how you describe the moment on the porch swing when you felt complete with your three daughters, only to find yourself welcoming a son into your life a few years later. It's a beautiful reminder that life has a way of surprising us, and that the unplanned can be just as precious as the planned.
I also just adore the quotes. Six to eight lions. It just seems so reasonable. 😂
P.S. Yes, Joey's phrases are CLASSIC, but I have tons of doozies from all of my kids that are hilarious. Example: this one of my is from my 14yo.
Ben to Felicity when she was sick: "Do you need anything?"
Felicity: "A coffin."
🤣🤣🤣
OMG. The sasssssitude. I love it. 🪦
Sassitude = exactly. Reminds me of a bumper sticker I saw that read, "Mom of sassholes." 🤣
AHAHAHAHA I love that!
Jeannie, I loved this glimpse into your family life, and especially the hilarious quotes from Joey! You are an incredible mum!
Thanks, friend. I admire you as a mom, too.
Hi Jeannie,
This is a beautiful reflection on Joey and being a parent to five amazing children. The quotes are true gems. I love your candor and writing style. I agree parenthood is a blur. I feel it happens slowly and quickly at the same time. With my daughter, I try to savor my moments with her by slowing down time (or my perception of time), but she's 16 now, and it seems like yesterday I first held her in my arms.
Thank you for sharing this Substack space with us, your loyal readers. Reading your work is a true gift.
You know, Beth, I've only recently felt the way you describe here - about time speeding up way too fast - since my oldest turned 14 in November. I find that, more and more, I feel a nostalgia for her young years, when she was giddy and innocent and hadn't yet experienced betrayal. I think I'm beginning to understand what parents of teens mean when they say they have a wistful feeling about their children and miss those early years.
I totally get it. I miss Arielle's younger years a lot. It was so much fun taking her to see magicians, going to tea parties, children's theater, etc. She loved everything we did together. But now she finds everything I want to do with her to be boring. Yet, and this is a positive of the teen years, I can converse with her on an array of topics, and she still likes to do things with me if she's interested. So now I find her new interests and support her.
It’s a totally new parenting terrain, isn’t it, Beth—the teen years? Felicity is similar to Arielle. She thinks adults are boring and wants very little to do with me or my husband, but she occasionally will ask if I can take her shopping or for a smoothie or wants to chat. Even to ask my advice (shock and horror!) sometimes. I find this inner tug-and-pull within me struggle to make sense of what she needs or wants from me at any given moment, and it does try my patience and resolve as a mom every day.
I so enjoy it when you write about your children; it makes me wish I had been a less stressed-out parent when my two were young. I feel like I spent way too much time worrying, nervous, or angry over stupid things.
I have done the same thing, Doreen! I still struggle with excessive worry and anger. I think parenting just tests us, sometimes brings us to the brink, you know? It's terribly challenging and often unrewarding, especially when the children are young.
Yes, and now mine are grown. And now that I know better, I try to do better.
Same here, Doreen. I am a firm believer that we can start over anytime!
I loved reading all about sweet Joey. Isn’t it fascinating how children from the same household are each unique!? I felt it while growing up between my own two brothers, and I see it with my husband and his seven siblings. Your essay prompted me to think about my own three children and how differently I related to each of them. Welcoming my first son at 23 was much different than meeting our last baby boy when I was 36! And mothering my daughter was unique in a different way. Thanks for the smile today.
Oh yes, Martha, I wholeheartedly agree! I try to think about how each of my kids will remember me differently, because they experience me differently. And I am a different person at 44 than I was at 29, when Felicity was born. Glad to make you smile today!
With the sudden loss of my husband, one of my regrets is that I didn’t have more children. Mom of two boys and two grandchildren.
Hi Teresa, I'm so sorry about your husband's sudden death. I have heard of similar regrets from other women. I will say this: regret can be a signal at what we still might need to grieve. To me, this is an important step toward accepting what is, instead of what we wish would've or could've been.
I will say that my two boys (46 and 40) are such a comfort to me and a big help. I moved across Missouri to be close to my oldest and family. The younger one came with me. I wish I had more kids because they do give me a purpose in life. I will be grieving my husband forever. He suffered cardiac arrest while driving us to Gettysburg. His last act was to save my life by stopping the truck and putting it in park. Then he died. My oldest jumped on a plane and was by my side before it got dark. The ambulance crew got his heart beating again but he never regained consciousness. It was determined that he had massive brain damage and I decided to have the vent removed and let him go. My husband was a big personality and loved by many. Of course he had to leave us in an unforgettable way. I enjoy your writing and wish the best for Sarah.
Teresa, I will hold this tender memory you shared of your husband's death in my heart today. I want you to know I feel honored that you shared it with me today. You are right that grief, once it enters our lives, never truly leaves us.
I think you're right, Alex, about the "unplanned being just as precious as the planned." I will admit I did not see it that way for many years. In fact, it's only within the last six months or so that I've sensed a shift in my attitude and perception about pretty much everything.
Growing a human inside my body and then birthing the baby was an excruciating trauma for me. I learned last year that many women experience prenatal and postpartum trauma, which I didn't recognize as such until much later. And I don't use the word trauma lightly, which I only mention because it's somewhat of a popular buzzword these days.
Anyway, it's always such a gift to receive your offering here in these spaces on Substack. I am ever grateful to be here with incredible humans like you!