It's my daughter's twenty second birthday; she's celebrating 450 miles away, so after an early morning phone call, I am left to my memories.
Labour came on fast and furiously. I vomitted with every contraction, I ran from one room to the next trying to find a place to settle. The birthing pool was filling up, but it would be a long time before I could submerge myself in its warm waters. My husband called the hospital.
'How long has it been?'
'About two hours.'
'Call back when something's happening.'
I climbed into the bath, looking for watery relief, and an intense feeling came over me of not being good enough for a midwife. I felt tearful and fragile as I teetered on the precipice of motherhood.
Heaving myself out of the tub, I knelt in front of the toilet, the baby's crown was already on the threshold when I called my husband. She was in his hands seconds later. He brought cushions and blankets in which to wrap me and the slippery creature who had just arrived. I couldn't stop shivering. He lit a candle and balanced it on the cistern before calling the hospital. I could hear his laconic assertion.
'I called an hour ago for a midwife, I'm ringing now to say don't bother, she's had the baby!'
It was only about twenty minutes later that the on-duty midwife showed up in a state of consternation. Once the cord was cut and I was in the birthing pool cleaning up with the baby in my arms, my husband left to visit a friend. It was still early on a Sunday morning, and he staggered across Oxford Street in London where we were living, in such a state of shock that he forgot he was only wearing boxer shorts. He was stunned by the experience of being the first to hold this tiny infant as she took her first terestrial breath. And, twenty two years on, I am stunned by his courage and kindness and fortitude to be there for me as my daughter crossed the threshold into life.
This child was not his. It had not been planned this way. He had only had six months to acclimatise to the information that I had long been having an affair and was expecting my lover's baby. Life is complicated and the pain he must have been in, hard to imagine. And yet, he opened his heart to this infant and welcomed her abundantly. He took time off work and spent some of his leave helping me adjust to parenthood and some on holiday with a friend, processing his grief and confusion about everything that had happened.
Once back at work, he organised his schedule so that he could look after her every Friday afternoon. This continued after we divorced, and as she got older, she would stay over on the Friday night too. He became a god-father and uncle rolled into one. We never really knew how to describe him, because he was so much more to her than any of these descriptors. She was a non-negotiable part of his life when he began dating again and, at his wedding, my daughter was his bridesmaid. She's big sister to his daughters now and often hanging out at his place.
A few years ago, I thanked him for everything he has done for her. He shrugged, 'she's family' he said.
I have been tending my grief over the last few years, bringing peace to the pain of all these twists and turns in my journey through life. While its obvious that my husband would grieve this situation, it's less obvious that I would too. Grief can be experienced as illegitimate when cultural norms deem one not to be entitled to grieve. But whether you are the cause of a calamatous situation or a victim of it, grief accompanies the change in circumstances. There are two important recovery components in the Grief Recovery Method – forgiveness and apology. My husband has much for which to forgive me. For my part, it is mostly apology to which I must attend.
I am sorry I wasn't honest with him about how I was impacted by decisions we had made earlier in our relationship.
I am sorry I wasn't emotionally present to him after his mum died.
I am sorry I had an affair.
I am sorry I didn't tell him sooner.
No relationship is completely one-sided and in the Grief Recovery Method, we are invited to find at least two things to forgive and two apologies. There might also be other significant emotions that need expressing. In my case it is gratitude for the role he has played in my daughter's life for the last twenty-two years.
If you are the cause of harm, you too can find peace in your heart. Don't lug a burden of guilt around for the rest of your life. If you're curious how the Grief Recovery Method can help you, book a free call with me using the link below:
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