# 98 on my 99 Life Tips–A List is: Parent so your kids seek your advice; If your kids ask your opinion, you have been a good parent.
As the father of 7, five girls and two boys, I think I’m qualified to speak on this. My kids range from 34 to 17 as of this writing, all born of the same mother.
Parents reading this don’t have to be told how challenging the job is. There are times you ask yourself, “Am I doing this parenting thing right?” The role lends itself to self-doubt and recriminations. Still, if your child asks your opinion, you can feel pretty certain you’ve done something right.
When your kids are very young they get your opinions regardless of whether they want them. You teach them, train them, and nurture them as their primary source of information, hopefully sharing the task with their other parent, speaking with a single, unified voice. These foundational years are the time to establish trust and confidence.
They age, learn to read, go to school, and become sponges receiving input from many different sources and voices. Teachers, friends, authors, social media, all exert influential pressure on your growing child’s views. You do your best to shepherd this period of growth and change. There’s a tightrope between wanting to protect your child and wanting them to be tough. As the circumference of their world expands, it becomes harder to stay at the center of it.
By their teenage and young adult years, it takes serious effort to stay in their world at any level. As a good parent, you’ll make every effort to insure your child still considers your voice in their decision-making matrix.
At a point much sooner than any parent realizes, your child no longer has to listen to your opinions. Sure, they may still live under your roof and so they cannot escape the sounds you make, but that doesn’t mean they’re listening. But hopefully they are. If you’ve created the kind of relationship in which you’ve been your child’s most ardent cheerleader, providing unconditional support, they’ll know it.
They may not rush to sit at your feet seeking your infallible wisdom. Yours may no longer be the first voice they consider. But you hope yours is one of the voices they seek, one of the opinions they value, as they contemplate options with ever more far-reaching implications.
Sometimes, at this age, their avoidance of your opinion is itself evidence they know your view on the matter — which doesn’t always mean they’ll accept or adopt it.
And if they don’t come to get your input, or if they act contrary to what you’ve taught and modeled for them, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. You may be a fantastic parent with a particularly stubborn or temporarily blinded or disgruntled child.
I empathize with any of you who have gone through this. I know exactly how bad that feels, and how easy it is to label yourself a failure when it happens — which simply isn’t true.
In time, circumstances may be that that your kids neither hear your opinion daily, nor have to ask you for it. The value of your solicited advice increases when they no longer have to abide by it. When you are asked for your opinion, by a child advancing further into adulthood and independence, it feels amazingly validating. In that case, you can be certain you’ve done something right. Pause to smile and pat yourself on the back. You’ve been a good parent.
Emotional Intelligence starts with the recognition that All Emotions Are Valid
# 44 on my, 99 Life Tips – A List is: Allow everyone in your life to feel how they feel, they’re going to anyway. If you tell them they shouldn’t feel a certain way, you’re alienating yourself by your own emotional ignorance.
To start, I want to acknowledge and thank John Gottman, author of multiple books, relationship and marriage therapist par excellence, and founder of the John Gottman Institute, where many fine people continue his work on relationships and emotional maturity. Many of the things I will touch on in this article I learned from reading his books and watching his videos and Ted Talks (like this one with over a million views).
I’ll also be linking to several articles for further reading. I promise I’m not intentionally plagiarizing any specific comment, phrase, or idea, but after 16 years of assimilation, I’ve adopted a lot of the language as my own.
Wow. Where do I start with this one? It is regrettable that I discovered the truth that all feelings are valid, far too late in my life. 40 years old, married, and the father of 7 kids, I was an emotional idiot, alternately over or under reacting to the negative emotions of the people around me. I even became a full-time minister. Nevertheless, I possessed zero, ZERO emotional intelligence. Why? Mostly because of how I was raised, and consequently conditioned, to deal with negative emotions.
Before proceeding, it must be noted that emotions, typically thought of as feelings, are not just feelings. They are behaviors, too. The feeling of anger can give rise to an outburst (behavior). Negative emotions form patterned responses (including associated behaviors) from a young age.
Four Parenting Styles
Gottman identifies four distinct parenting styles that influence the development of these patterned reactions. These styles imprint children for dealing with negative emotions as they grow into adulthood. I’ve linked an article outlining each of the styles. Only one of them can develop emotionally stable kids who grow up to be emotionally intelligent and emotionally mature adults. That style is the ”Emotion Coach”.
Emotion Coach parents recognize the validity of a child’s negative feelings, and help their child work out appropriate responses. This is the crux of the matter if you ever hope to become emotionally intelligent, benefitting both yourself and the people with whom you are in relationship. All emotions are valid, even if all responses are not.
I wasn’t raised by an Emotion Coach. I was raised to deny negative emotions, to ignore them, and to distract myself from them. My mom was a bi-polar, suicidal alcoholic who took her own emotional medicine. When she felt bad, which was often, she wrote bad checks, or passed out drunk, or slept with inappropriately aged young men, or sometimes…took handfuls of pills.
Whenever I felt bad it was, ”Here honey, you don’t need to feel that way, have a drink.” And when I got angry, she’d get just as angry, or worse, apparently believing the way to exorcise anger was to blow it out of your system. We could be angry together. It was us against the stupid world.
Being A Christian Doesn’t Impart Emotional Intelligence
So, of course, my life followed the stereotypical pattern. I didn’t like to feel bad. I had learned that I shouldn’t have to feel along with many ways to make myself feel better. Sex, and cocaine, and weed were great ways to avoid, ignore, or distance myself from negative emotions.
This wasn’t going to end well, but it was definitely going to end.
At 21, I became a serious Christian. I mean really serious. But reading and memorizing large swaths of the Bible didn’t make me emotionally intelligent. In some ways, my poor understanding of Jesus and Christianity made me less so. If a Christian feels bad, it’s their fault, right? God doesn’t feel bad. Jesus doesn’t. If you feel bad, you must be doing something wrong that more prayer, or listening to more teaching tapes on Faith, or attending more meetings on Sundays and Wednesday nights can fix.
In short, I grew up believing that feeling bad is not okay. Feeling bad when you’re a Christian is REALLY not ok. I mean, what’s the point?
Maybe you grew up in a lion’s den, too. Maybe you were taught to deny your negative feelings because it is not acceptable to feel bad. I want to say however you feel right now is valid. It is how you feel. You don’t have to rationalize those feelings or justify them to anyone. They are yours, and you are entitled to them. I’m sure if we could all see inside your life and your head, we’d understand a lot better why you feel as you do. And if we couldn’t, that’s our problem, not yours.
Having said that, all of your responses to your feelings are not appropriate. I’ll explain shortly.
Even as an ardent Christian, I went years in a state of emotional detachment to people. Growing up with a mom who routinely attempted suicide, and even more regularly threatened it, doesn’t exactly make one trust and value long-term relationships. I had seen her be gut-wrenchingly depressive so often, with nothing ever coming of it, that I completely detached if anyone around me ever cried or got upset. My mom’s drunken, cryee-faced, suicide routine had taught me that kind of drama wasn’t real, and not something to get too alarmed about.
Inappropriate Responses
For years, I was happy, rarely depressed, not a substance abuser, had a wife and kids, friends, and at 26, became a full-time minister.
Then, 12 years ago, after 22 and a half years of marriage, I found out my wife was cheating on me with an old high school ”friend” she had reconnected with on Facebook. I was so emotionally oblivious that it went on for 6 months before I discovered her treachery. But then, according to pattern, I was devastated and angry. Murderously angry.
Those feelings, given my situation, were completely valid. (I even had a licensed Christian marriage counselor tell me so). Feeling betrayed, I wanted to kill. That’s understandable. But actually killing either of them would have been horribly inappropriate. It wouldn’t have erased the adultery, it would have just put me in jail for murder.
That’s an extreme example, but it is my story, and I’m sticking with it.
I’m also ashamed to admit, that sometimes after my girls became teenagers, struggling with typical teenage girl problems, they would cry themselves to sleep at night, and I was emotionally unavailable. Sometimes I would make it worse by telling them to pray. I didn’t want them to feel bad. I offered many reasons why they shouldn’t…usually heavily laced with what I thought were uplifting scriptures. But my attempts were born out of a stupidity about the nature of emotions and emotional connection.
It seemed the more they cried and hurt, the more shut down and aloof I became.
This all changed one night when I picked up my 15 year old second daughter from a party with friends. I knew she had a crush on a boy at the party and on the way home I asked her about him. She became upset and teary as she explained that he had hardly paid any attention to her. Crying, she told me he had been obsessed with another girl. Then she told me how bad this made her feel about herself, and how she would never have a boyfriend.
It was the perfect opportunity for me to be a good, loving, understanding father to a teen-age daughter who just needed me to be there for her. It was a chance to hear her, validate her feelings, and relate to her that I had been rejected and ignored at her age too, and I understood how bad that could feel. I wish I had been that father.
Instead, I told her how silly it was to be upset. I explained that at her age nothing was going to come of this crush. And I told her that the boy was probably not ”godly” anyway and that she was much better off not getting any more involved with him. I told her to be thankful and to feel good that that was over. I can vaguely remember her looking at me incredulously with a tear-streaked face in the dark car. And I thought I had done so well trying to make her feel better.
The Turning Point
When we got home, I went about my normal routine and thought nothing more about it. After a while, I overheard her talking with her mom. She was crying and clearly upset. I got up and came into the kitchen where they were. My daughter was sitting on a barstool, her face in her hands. More teen-aged female drama, I thought. Hadn’t I already dealt with this and helped her get over it on the way home?
I said, ”You didn’t feel this way on the way home, and we get home and you fall to pieces?”
”I cried all the way home, Dad,” she said.
”What? Now, you’re just lying.” I said in return.
She jerked her head up, tears streaming, and I had the flashback of her face in the dark car. My emotional blindness astonished and floored me. After apologizing profusely to her, I retreated into my mind to try to understand how I had tuned out her emotions and her crying on the way home.
Though I had failed at getting her to ignore her bad feelings, I had succeeded in ignoring them myself. My patterned response to her crying had been to erase it from reality. So much that, to me, it didn’t even exist. I had marched into that kitchen in righteous indignation, clouded by emotional self-delusion, as if she was making up the whole dramatic scene just to curry compassion from her mother. I was stunned…in the best possible way.
Emotional Connection
The next day, I searched for the words ”Emotional Connection” and discovered John Gottman.
Do yourself a favor and watch a video, or read a book. Don’t be like me. Er, don’t be like I was!
I’m not that same detached, emotionally unavailable man anymore. It has taken work. Some of the time it has felt very artificial because my ingrained tendencies to deny, deflect, and distract were so deep. I’m no longer afraid to feel bad, quite the contrary. And I have the distinct pleasure and honor of hearing my girlfriend tell that I’m the most emotionally intelligent person she’s ever known.
I have the unspeakable satisfaction to be there for my kids when things are bad, knowing that now, I’m in it with them. I’m able to relate to their emotions, and validate them, and they know it. I’m much more the Emotion Coach now, even to my adult children. I teach and model for them that all emotions are valid, even if all responses are not. I’ve stopped telling them how to feel, or how they shouldn’t feel. I let them feel how they feel. They were always going to anyway.
And I have the chance to share these things with you, dear Reader. I hope you’ll find how affirming and strengthening it is when you allow the people in your life to feel how they feel without judging them, or trying to change their feelings, or ”make them feel better.”
One of life’s greatest gifts is a kind soul who will help us shoulder the burdens of times when we feel down. A friend and partner with whom we can share our hurts without fear of judgement. One who will hear us, hold us, be there through it with us, allowing us the space to feel all we need to feel, and who will help us respond appropriately. You can be that gift.
PS–
There are times you’ll be in a position to validate and affirm someone’s emotions, when you believe the reasons for their emotional state may not be sound. That can happen. When it does, I encourage you to connect emotionally. Tell the person you understand how they feel. You may even say something like, ”It’s understandable you feel that way since that’s how you see ____________.” The time to discuss the reasons for the feelings will come after you affirm the existence of the feelings.
It would be nice to have these reminders pop up like road signs from time to time
I’ve written about goals and goal setting in a previous post. It was tongue-in-cheek. My intention was to spark thought about the right questions to ask when setting a goal. But an ongoing conversation with my 17-r-old, college freshman, son has me thinking more about the topic of goals and the relation of plans to goals.
A Plan Is Not Busy Work, It Is Essential
My son is required to complete an Academic Plan for a class. He is on the bubble about what he wants to major in and so is dragging his heels about drafting a plan. He thinks there is no point in working on a plan, and putting it in writing, if it’s likely to change. So, he is thinking of this assignment as busy work. I am encouraging him to create the plan, finish the assignment, and realize that it is not carved in stone. My reasoning is this:
1- A goal represents an end that you have in mind.
2- A plan represents the means for achieving that end.
Unless a goal can be achieved with a single action, setting a goal and having no plan is the equivalent of not setting a goal. It may be a dream, or a wish, or perhaps a hope, but it’s not a proper goal.
A goal is something tangible, measurable, achievable (at least potentially), and exists during a window of opportunity (there is a timetable, or deadline for reaching it). A plan maps out how that is going to be done. What are the steps? What are the necessary resources? Are there pre-requisites, or contingencies I should be aware of?
One of the most important things to grasp in life, as young as possible, is the relation of plans to goals. That is to say, knowing the difference between means and ends. It is a rare person who keeps this concept in mind as the basic metric for decision making of all types.
Everyone Is Living For Some End
Everyone is living for some end. Even if they are unaware. Most people haven’t clearly defined it to themselves. This causes many to live very passively, in a state of hopeful disappointment (so as to not plagiarize Thoreau’s ”quiet desperation”, though they are functionally the same). People hope their lives will magically get better. Whatever better means. But they are living out a series of steps that feel predestined for them without much thought of their own. Succumbing to social and economic pressures, they live and act as if their own agency doesn’t have a lot to do with their own lives. To many, life is a lottery game, or a roulette wheel, and some people get lucky. They hope to be among the lucky.
But without a specific end in mine, clearly defined, and pursued for the value it represents, most are passively adrift. Their favorite words are ”If only…”. This even affects purchases. Or maybe it especially affects economic decisions of all sorts. People seem to be very confused about their relationship with money, thinking it is an end, when it is quite literally a means, and only a means. The result is they are either trying to accumulate money as an end in itself, or spending it for some feeling it cannot buy.
The Antidote to Passivity And Its Soul-Crushing Effects
The antidote to this hopeful disappointment or quiet desperation is to spend time thinking about what you really want. Identify your desired end. What ultimate goal do you have in mind? What would make life worth the effort to stay or get healthy, or the effort to establish better habits? Is there any worthwhile payoff for the hard work? What would make your life one you actually want to be living? Unless you define this ”most valuable end” and then live as if that end really is as valuable as you say it is, you’re cheating yourself. And you’re definitely not being authentic. And you’re forgetting how short this ride on the merry-go-round is.
Maybe you haven’t worked out your lifetime ”most valuable end”, supreme goal yet, but it certainly helps to start there and work backwards when planning. For now, you can start small to learn how to think of means and ends, and to plan sequentially so that you take the steps necessary to achieve the desired end, by taking action in the right order.
Today’s Academic Plan Yields Tomorrow’s Dream Life
I pointed out to my son that he is in an intermediate phase of life. He is wisely in a local community college that is cheap. In it, he can get all of his general college credits out of the way, keeping an open mind about a major. He will be ready to transfer those credits and his enrollment once he’s decided on a solid major. His immediate goal is 60 transferable credit hours in required courses. That’s it.
That intermediate goal is actually a means to a larger goal…a 4-yr degree at a university. And that, too, is an intermediate goal to the larger goal of a good, high-paying job. Which is also an intermediate goal to the ultimate goal of a life he wants to be living….to success defined in his own terms. I think I’ve helped him to see the relation of the academic plan he drafts today to the ultimate goal of his dream life.
Talking with him over the last couple of days made me want to share the conversation and hopefully theinsights with you. This framework of setting a clear goal, then making a plan on how to arrive, works in every part of life. It even makes life more fun, even if a little more challenging. It’s better to be proactive and work a plan towards a goal you actually want. The relation of plans to goals is what turns a dream into a possibility, and can transform it from a wish to reality. Certainly better to be armed with a plan towards a clear goal than to be a leaf on a stream, hoping things will magically get better, while passively floating towards what might just turn out to be a waste treatment plant.
Have you ever stopped to consider it is your wants that get you into various troubles, and rarely your needs?
I asked my 17-year-old son the other day if he would accept a job offer that would guarantee him all of his needs being met for life: food, shelter, clothing, transportation, medical, educational expenses, etc. Not surprisingly, he said, no…emphatically!
Whereas, I would take that deal in a heartbeat.
When I pressed him to explain his decision in our hypothetical scenario, he said, there’s stuff I want, and stuff I want to do. I agreed and praised him for the recognition that often times those kinds of things are over and above ”needs”. But I warned him that indulging wants is very often a never-ending, ever-enlarging cycle of displeasure, disappointment, and disillusionment.
His demeanor displayed the fact that accepting a life-time salary that would meet every need did not feel like a win for him. When you’re 17, that feels like settling. So, I asked him how much would be enough? If you could earn twice as much as you needed, would that satisfy? He said maybe. In reply, I asked him to consider the nature of a want, and just how important those wants would really be, once his needs were already met.
My hope was to get him to focus on nailing down his needs; and making decisions about wants fully aware of the different ways that they far surpass needs in total cost of ownership. And how they drive you into an endless state of discontentment.
Once a desire has it’s hooks in you, you must determine if you have the means to scratch that itch. And if you don’t, your dissatisfaction with your status quo deteriorates. Now, you need another job, or a lucky windfall. Or you need a different house, or a different husband, and so it goes…
I found out a long time ago what a want can do to my soul. (with a tip of my cap to the Eagles for taking artistic license). What I’ve wanted has too often proven to be the worst thing I could have gotten, once I’d done and spent all that was necessary to obtain it.
But the least amount of time I’m forced to devote to providing for my necessities, secures me with the true wealth of self-directed time. And friends, they aren’t making any more of that.
As Bob Dylan, that Nobel-prize-winning-master-of-poetry-and-literature, with the voice of an angel (…albeit one with a very bad sinus infection), said in Just Like Tom Thumbs Blues,
”Up on Housing Project Hill, it’s either fortune or fame
My daughter Rachel, has a birthday today. I wanted to share a few words about her.
She is talented, and giving, and nurturing, and a healer.
Which is a miracle. She should be hardened and bitter and bruised and fragile, maybe a little broken and bent.
As the firstborn of what eventually become a tribe of 7 (over the unfolding of 16 years), her mother and I often referred to her as our plow. It was no jest. She hit every rock in the field as our well-intentioned hearts, but unskilled hands tried to cultivate an environment for the family, using Rachel as the unwitting test case. She got dinged up in the process through faults that were not her own. In retrospect, I wish I’d had the wisdom to discover the myriad hidden rocks of parenthood and child-rearing other than with a firstborn plowshare named Rachel.
I guess being a plow made her adventurous, pretty fearless, and certainly not afraid to take a calculated risk. For years now she has carried the family’s entrepreneurial flame, having started her own business with unflagging determination, the sweat of her brow (literally), and out of her own pocket.
She set the stage for her own success during a post-divorce (family disaster) period of several years when we were unfortunately very much estranged (Though by the mercies of God, I am thrilled to have again been part of Rachel’s life for many years past.). Undaunted, she channeled her beautiful, stubborn, willful, independence into an amazing, thriving, service-oriented business.
I may be my daughter’s equal in stubbornness, but I’m not half the entrepreneur, and not a quarter the businessperson she is. And that is awesome to me! I am delighted that she has eclipsed my feeble modeling by such wide margins!
She owns a massage therapy business with two high-end locations in the city where she was born at home. Because of necessary Covid lock downs, this past year has been a struggle for her. The mandatory shut down forced her to furlough her carefully curated staff. She had to negotiate lease arrangements with multiple landlords.
She then had to do the same searching, and haggling, and negotiating, and juggling to patch together enough income to keep her own home.
She lost at least $120K of irrecoverable personal income in the past year due to lost revenues from mandatory shutdowns. This was through no fault of her own.
So, you’re damn right I’m glad the part of the government that actually cares about people voted to give some of that back! But it’s a drop in the bucket in comparison to what she lost.
Finally able to reopen, she retained her former staff, and chose to adopt even safer guidelines and policies than mandated to protect both staff and clients. It’s worked! Her business has not seen a single case of Covid arising from the literal ”hands on” service they offer their clients.
Though our conversations in the first few months of lock down shed some light on the efforts she was making, and all the bureaucratic red-tape she faced, she only very recently revealed just how dark those months of being shut down got for her. She did what Rachel does. She plowed ahead. She faced down the challenge, put on a brave face and soldiered on.
I complained with more venom in those paragraphs above more than I’ve heard her complain this year. She doesn’t complain. She seeks a solution. She implements it. She survives, and she thrives. And she shares the success with those in her orbit.
At the beginning of the month, I wrote that my oldest son is my kindest child. Well…my oldest daughter has the toughest shell. But inside that shell is a warm, generous soul more concerned about your well-being than she is about her own. A caring nurturer who can heal you with her very touch! Her name in Hebrew, means ”Ewe”. All of the connotations of ”Ewe”, from nurturer, to comforter, to provider, to economic sustenance, each are manifest in my Rachel.
Thanks for indulging a thimbleful of my pride in wishing her a Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday, Rachel.
PS- I’m still heartbroken over letting that little lab puppy nip your one-year-old’s finger at Freedom Park that day I was carrying you on my shoulders and kneeled down to let you pet it.
I wish I could have protected you better then…and every day since, from every nip and bite that my kneeling down to circumstances and pressures caused you to endure. Please know that from the first time your emergence into this world splashed me with salt water, all your cries have always broken my father’s heart. And all your smiles and successes have healed it again with gratitude and pride!
Time for a PEP talk: Praise, Encouragement, and Progress
In another life, I taught Bradley Method natural childbirth classes for over a decade. That’s a lot of babies! I learned more than anyone who doesn’t aim to be an obstetrician would ever care to know about pregnancy, labor, and birth itself, including tricks for coaxing a stubborn placenta.
I always get a good chuckle and an eye roll when I watch a pregnant woman in the movies announce that her water has broken, grab her swollen abdomen, and induce panic around her as if the baby will fall out in the next three minutes.
The process of labor is long. (My apologies to my readers who are moms. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know much better than I do.) The average labor is 15 hours in duration. Many can safely go 24 hours or more, as the mother’s body and the soon-to-be-newborn work together to achieve a birth without arbitrary time management procedures.
There are three stages of labor, with an additional period that seems like it should be a stage unto itself.
In first stage the woman begins having contractions. The bag of muscles that is her uterus is shortening. As they flex and shorten, the opening of the uterus know as the cervix is flattened and pulled open. I always imagine this as pulling a thick sweater on over ones head.
Like this? Sorry, Moms everywhere!
In second stage, the cervix is as open as needed to allow the baby’s head (hopefully: I won’t go into breech births here) and body to pass through, and the muscles of the uterus change to a more expulsive type. This is commonly referred to as pushing stage, lasting from the time the cervix is open enough to allow the baby out to the actual appearance of the little miracle.
Third stage is the delivery of the placenta, which is usually accomplished in half an hour or less. A retained placenta is no beuno, and creates a potentially serious bleeding problem for the new mom. So, don’t forget the placenta!
These are neat and tidy stages. First stage is from the onset of contractions to the full dilation of the cervix. Second set is from dilation to birth. Third stage is the placenta.
I’ve attended over a hundred natural births. I’ve been present as a coach, husband, father, mid-wife (for my own seven children), photographer, videographer, or general support person. In every birth there is one stage not listed here that every woman in labor goes through. It’s known as Transition.
It is that stage when the uterus is working its hardest. The contractions last longer, sometimes over two minutes from the start to the peak, and they are much more frequent, sometimes stringing together with very little rest from one to the next.
There is a universal emotional signpost. Self-Doubt. No, really. It is the, ”I cannot do this! I’m dying! Make it stop! Something’s wrong!” kind. It’s severe. It’s real. It’s uncontrollable. It is also temporary. Thus the name given to this period. Transition.
It marks the time that the mom goes from doing her best to relax and allow her body to work for her and her baby, to the time when she gets to bear down and be an active participant. But in all the births I’ve been to, I’ve never been to one during which the mom didn’t feel like it was impossible for her to finish the task. Most felt like they had to give up their claim to their own lives in order to bring a new one into the world. And I mean, they really felt that struggle!
In that period, the best thing I could do as a coach, a husband, support person was to offer genuine admiration and encouragement. In Bradley, it’s known as a PEP talk. The coach offers Praise, Encouragement, and Progress. Like this:
”You are doing it!” ”You’ve already been through so many contractions!” ”You are phenomenal!” ”Just one at a time!” ”You’re amazing!”
And I meant all those things. Seriously. I’m typing this misty-eyed with tears rolling down my cheeks in admiration and thanksgiving for the selflessness of mothers everywhere! Talk about heroes!
As a man, I’ll never really know what it is like from that side of it, but I do know what it’s like to have the woman you’ve shared this entire experience with from the time you found out you were expecting through all the changes in her body, and her mood, and trying to make sure she had everything she needed to be healthy and safe, and listening to your baby’s heart beat and watching it try to wrestle its way out of her womb.
You remember all those things. You bring that with you to the birth with such a sense of responsibility and of hope. And she’s saying she’s going to die, and she cannot go on, and it’s not working, and she has to stop.
And you’re her best thing in the world to try to help her over that last hurdle to see the baby be born, and for both the people you love more than you love your own life be safe and okay.
So, you tell her, ”You’ve got this!” ”I’m right here!” ”I’m SO PROUD of you!” ”Okay, just breathe.” ”We’re almost there!”
And folks, that’s where we are with this god-damned Coronavirus! We’re almost there. We have a little more work to do is all. We’ve been through so much! Some of us have given everything. Not one of us has given nothing. We can do this! Now is not the time to give up, or give in. And now is not the time to pretend that the birth is complete. It’s not quite over yet, but we’ve got this! Soon, very soon we can all push together into a new kind of post-Covid world and it will feel like a miracle.
One of my favorite lines in a Grateful Dead song comes from the tune, Scarlet Begonias.
“Once in a while you can get shown the light,
In the strangest of places if you look at it right.”
This has been true for me. All that it sometimes takes to see a previously hidden truth is my own willingness to look at the subject a different way.
This act of taking another look at something is what is colloquially referred to as ”open-mindedness”. I find a lot of people are afraid of this term. I find they are afraid of it because they misunderstand it. Being ”open-minded” doesn’t mean abandoning anchors of belief, or intellectual boundaries, putting you in danger that your brain will fall out. It means accepting the possibility that there may be more than one valid viewpoint to a particular issue.
Ideally, this would be a universally applied truth. But, before any truth can be applied, it must first be known. Here then, is my attempt to say,
”Hey, here’s something cool. There’s more than one way to see a lot of issues. Have you tried looking at it from another perspective? Have you tried putting yourself in the other guy’s shoes, for instance?”
A few months ago, I was sitting on the front porch with my seventeen year old. We were discussing a problem he was facing. His ability to solve the problem was limited by two things. One, he had only seventeen years of experience to draw from. Two, this lack of experience forced him in to a very narrow perspective, which blew the problem out of all proportion.
I was sitting in my normal spot on the front porch. It is wide enough to accommodate my frame. He was sitting in a chair to my left. A cloud moved in the sky, the sun peered from behind it, illuminating a perfectly crafted and quite large spider web just as I glanced up to notice it. The web had been there the whole time we had been talking, but I couldn’t see it against the gray overcast. It took the light hitting it just right for it to come into view. What had been real the whole morning, was now real to me.
I asked my son, sitting to my left at the end of the porch and at an acute angle to the web, if he could see it. He shook his head. Interesting, I thought. Nature has provided the perfect metaphor.
”Come look at this,” I said.
He got up, came over a few steps and looked up at the intricate web.
”Wow!” he said. He was amazed by both the intricacy of the web, and that something so large had been completely hidden from view.
I caught him, slippery, broad-shouldered and born in the veil, on a cool, cool morning in 1998. I had trimmed my nails close in anticipation of playing the role of midwife again, so when he was born shrink-wrapped in the caul, the amniotic sac completely intact around his little body, I couldn’t get a purchase with my fingertips to tear it.
Fortunately, Lisa was there with her fingernails and did the trick, opening the package of the amazing gift he has been from that moment up to the moment I sit writing this.
He is a good kid.
When he was younger, he learned to ice skate at the old rink where Eastland Mall used to stand. We fell in love with hockey from some other dad’s and kids that skated there, and it wasn’t long before he began to play.
He is a fantastic skater, built with a low center of gravity and powerful legs and he developed a wicked wrist shot at a young age.
But…hockey rewards aggression. My oldest son is not aggressive. He is the kindest kid of all my seven. He is quite literally the second kindest person I know, behind only Beth-The-Kindhearted herself. He is so kind that in games playing travel hockey on a team with the best players of his birth year, when he would score on an opposing goalie, he would never show off with a big celebration. Often, he would tap the goalie’s pads with his stick and encourage him!
”You’ll get the next one,” he would say, not wanting the kid to feel bad.
And he’s wise for his 23 years; the living, breathing demonstration of what people mean when they talk about an old soul. I think those two qualities are inseparably linked. His wisdom is born out of his kindness. In Hebrew, his name means, ”He Hears”, and he does, he really does. He hears with compassion and empathy.
