Читать книгу AGREEMENTS: Lessons I Chose on My Journey toward the Light - Linda Stein-Luthke - Страница 15

Barry and I were married six weeks later in a small ceremony in Carolyn and Dad’s home. I devoted the first decade of my adult years to our marriage, and the birth of our two wonderful sons.

Zack was born in 1970 and Todd came four years later, in 1974.

The prediction that I had heard within me when I saw Barry for the first time had come true. He had become the father of my sons.

Having these two beautiful boys was the most important and fulfilling experience that I had had in my life to this time. My teachers had been born. I knew right away that they would teach me how to grow into a more giving, loving person. How else could it be? They started me on the most challenging journey of my life and I promised myself I would give them everything I possibly could. I knew that they would help me learn how to do this.

Zack was the perfect baby, healthy and thriving. He seldom cried because I could easily anticipate his needs. Some people refer to this as “a mother’s intuition.” But this connection seemed more as if one person (me) had split into two. He was like an extension of me that had taken another form and I could sense easily what that form needed in every moment. I never questioned how this worked. The connection just flowed between us constantly. And I cherished it.

He taught himself to read from Sesame Street and surprised us when he was three and a half by reading a Time Magazine that I’d put in front of him. I knew then that I would have to work very hard to keep up with this intelligent little boy.

Four years later, Todd was born by emergency C-section; he was not as healthy at the beginning. He cried continuously and needed great patience and love. As I held him in my arms after one particularly stressful day soon after his arrival, I vowed to love him as fully as I could no matter how difficult his days might be. He curled up in my arms and fell asleep. Our hearts linked, and I knew we would be fine. He learned to smile easily, adored his brother as soon as he noticed him, and kept me laughing as he grew happier with each passing day. I was enchanted with my children.

My greatest heartache when the children were born was that my parents could not be with me to see their grandchildren. It was an aching loss that nothing could soothe. I wanted my mother to hold my children. I wanted my father to spoil them and tell me how wonderful they are and neither of my parents could be there to do this. I dreamt of my parents holding them and my children feeling their grandparent’s adoration. But these were just dreams that left tears streaming down my face as I awoke.

Daddy had died suddenly of a heart attack right before I’d gotten pregnant with Zack. I was twenty-three years old. The doctor felt that the shock of his death had caused me to conceive. That felt very true to me. It was a devastating loss. I now knew that I had felt the same kind of connection with my Dad that I was now experiencing with my sons. But that didn’t matter, both of my parents were gone and nothing would bring them back. Death is a finality that cannot be bargained with, or so I thought.

Along the way, my marriage to Barry shattered. Barry had become successful in a big corporation that required us to move from one city to another while he devoted himself to his work and promotions. He was only with us on the weekends. He seldom had time or, it seemed, the desire to pay attention to the boys, so I became both mother and father to them almost from the beginning of their lives.

My stepmother, Carolyn was my guide and friend through these years as I set up a new home in one town after another and tried to make friends wherever we were. I would call her frequently and tell her of my loneliness and pain. She was always comforting and kind.

But even with Carolyn’s kind support, I became more and more angry, lonely, and depressed and by the end of our marriage, ten years later, there wasn’t much within me that resembled the woman who had wanted to be a good, loving wife.

I tried various activities to help me retain some sense of myself as we moved about. Before the children were born I worked in various capacities, ultimately becoming a teacher’s aide in a school for mildly retarded children. This was a job I truly loved.

After many nights of dreaming about being back in school, I did resume my education; I ended up taking classes in each new town we lived in. I also took painting classes and helped establish a pre-school in a subdivision we lived in. Just as roots and stability would begin to take hold in one place, we would be on to the next new town. Nothing felt permanent.

Since this was the 70’s, the drug culture permeated Barry’s company and he began to indulge. Once we moved closer to headquarters, he insisted that I at least smoke marijuana at the parties we had to attend. My family had never indulged in any kind of mind altering substances (except prescription drugs) and they would have never approved of this. So, I adamantly refused. Barry said I was ruining his career with my behavior and needed to join the party. I reluctantly agreed and proved to still be a “party pooper” because I would find a cozy corner and fall asleep after two puffs. But at least I’d taken two puffs.

Toward the end of the marriage we moved back to Cleveland to be near family. I was pregnant with Todd, and we thought having family around to support us might help. Barry’s parents quickly made it clear that they had no plans to help us but instead wanted to keep finding issues that would continue to separate us from them. They were quite successful in these attempts and we seldom saw them.

My stepmother, Carolyn did supply loving support and looked on both Zack and Todd as if they were her grandchildren. She knew she could never replace my parents, and she never tried. But she did give us all the love and support she could. And that was a great gift.

After Todd’s birth, I learned that the National Organization for Women was forming a chapter in Cleveland. My sister Bobbie had encouraged me to read a book called The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan. The book resonated deeply with me and I eagerly joined the organization. After attending my first meeting of NOW, they offered me the position of co-chair of the consciousness raising group. This was a group that met to discuss reasons we should be angry and demand change in their lives. They put me on TV, radio, in print and before a group of four hundred women at the International Women’s Year conference in Cleveland.

They really thought I knew what I was talking about. I didn’t.

After speaking before those four hundred women at the International Women’s Year conference, I left the podium to a rousing applause and promised myself I would never stand before any group and talk about anything again until I actually knew what I was talking about. And I never did.

I might be good at speaking. I knew that this must be true because that was what the group kept telling me. But being able to talk didn’t always equate with knowing what was helpful to say. I was embarrassed and felt that I’d let myself be flattered into thinking that I was a spokesperson for this organization.

There were many women there who truly believed that NOW would solve all their problems. I knew this wasn’t true. I’d still be a lonely woman who had lost her parents, had children that she was parenting on her own, and who had a husband that she no longer loved. NOW wasn’t going to fix any of that.

I didn’t realize until much later that the reason they chose me to speak for them had a lot more to do with the Light that was flowing through me rather than any of the words I was saying. I was completely clueless about the Light at that time and didn’t understand the power of this energy that carried my words into the groups I was talking to. They didn’t hear my words as much as feel my energy. Now I understand this.

Shortly after Todd's birth, Carolyn was diagnosed with cancer. She had always been there for me -- I was now there for her. I cared for her as much as I possibly could during this first year of my son Todd's life. I cherished this time with her, even as the cancer took its toll. As Carolyn lay dying, Barry told me he found all this additional pressure too much to handle and left. The marriage was over and it was finally time for me to find myself.