"A parent's love is whole no matter how many times divided." ~Robert Brault

As I sit here today watching my students take their final exam, I am simultaneously pondering my own so-called expertise as a parent. Is it the fact that I just read a student’s note that would make George Carlin blush? Is it the fact that, although my failure rate has dropped significantly from the beginning of the semester, I still have students who are failing? Or is it the fact that I have five children of my own whose intellectual growth, I feel, is my responsibility?

I fear all of the above.

Realistically speaking, all of those issues factor into my fears of parenting. I wonder now what sort of sentiments my children are writing in the classroom while they think their teacher isn’t looking. Do their teachers post all of their scores on that awesome website that the majority of schools have developed that allows me to grade-stalk them throughout the semester, or am I still in the dark about something with which they still may be struggling? Is my past guilt for having one child who struggled academically and, therefore, made bad choices in regards to many aspects of her life going to have an impact on me as a parent to the two newest additions in my maternal realm?

I fear all of the above.

My internal parent fear factor has taken a substantial leap since Kevin and the babies became my own. I suppose subconsciously, as a mother, I’ve always had the ability to accept my flaws. After all, we do not have the option of choosing our mothers; biologically speaking anyway.  So for my eldest daughters, I only had to prove to myself that I was satisfactory at raising offspring.  That is one of the joys of single parenting. However, with Kevin’s babies (our babies), I now fear inadequacy.  I am no longer the only judge of maternal character.

I do not fear an inability to love the babies; in fact, I love them equally to the three beautiful daughters who came from my womb. I do not fear an inability to connect with the babies; in fact, the first time I saw them, their blonde hair and fair skin reminded me a lot of myself before adulthood turned me into a brunette. I do not fear an inability to think about them when they are not with us; in fact, the silence that follows their absence is often more than I can bear. What is it that I fear, then?

I suppose I fear everything a normal parent fears. I fear society’s influence on them on a grand scale, and my inability to protect them at all times. I fear the day the babies get upset with me for the first time and not being the mommy they want when something brings sadness to their lives.  I fear being the stereotypical step-parent. And, although I don’t see myself as such, I fear that one day, they will.

So now I ask myself, with all of these fears written on paper for the world to see, will I succeed as a parent? Unfortunately, that question cannot be answered right now; not by me, nor anyone else. Success can only be measured in the heart, and our hearts have the capability to judge certain actions our whole lives. What might seem like perfect parenting to a person as a child is subject to change into their adolescence and adult lives. Therefore, when my children are grown and their hearts are settled, and they have all become parents themselves, I will sit down with them, my love stronger than ever, and ask them if my fears were in vain. Knowing my children, I am almost positive they will say ‘no.’ Not because those fears have become reality, but because it was those fears that forced me to protect their hearts and minds, and because parenting is often mimicked, it is those fears that will force my children to protect the hearts and minds of my grandchildren.

This is the cycle of parenting; the cycle of life.  

Nothing In This World Worth Having Comes Easy

Kevin and I decided to get married. Well, we had actually decided that our first weekend together, but neither of told the other for fear that we might seem a bit too eager. He, being the true gentleman that he is, knelt before me and spoke poetic words as I sat on a bench in a flannel shirt and hat. In my life, I had never felt more beautiful. In my life, I have never felt more at peace.

Unfortunately, the visits are becoming more and more difficult since we have progressed in our relationship. Well, I should rephrase and say that the ends of the visits are becoming more and more difficult. Several times in the last few weeks I have had to remind myself that I cannot dwell on the fact that Kevin and I live hundreds of miles apart, and that that aspect of our lives is somewhat cruel. I have had to remind myself on Sundays, when Southwest is summoning me, that I am not some lovesick teenager; although I will admit, standing in the security line at the airport with roped walkways and overbearing TSA employees often reminds me of the barriers placed upon me as a teenager.

Kevin is amazing. He is addictive. He is like that first taste of flavored coffee after having only ever tasted your grandparents’ Nescafe on family vacations. How any human in this world could have ever overlooked his kind-spirited demeanor is beyond me.  Selfishly, I am glad some have. I am glad my heart’s vision wasn’t completely skewed the day Kevin and the babies entered my life.

Because everything is so right when we’re together, Kevin and I have developed this game. I have compared it to the intensity of Russian Roulette, in that, we come up with these perfect scenarios, and then, after we’ve created a much easier realm than the one that is our reality, we dredge up the reasons why those scenarios are irresponsible—those reasons hit us every time like a surprise bullet in the chamber of the gun called life. Yet, after every visit, we play the game again, perhaps trying to convince ourselves that a flawless relationship is simple and without suffering.

That is when God has to intervene and remind us that nothing in this world worth having comes easy. Some wealthy philanthropist once said that, and it’s been verbally plagiarized many times, but I’m pretty sure the Lord planted that quote in the heads of us all in order for its true meaning to sprout at just that perfect moment in our lives. For me, this is that time. However, being terribly cursed with analytical views of just about everything that grows in my head, I am having a hard time keeping that notion alive. I blame distance.

With that said, we are counting down the months, days, and hours until our family is all under one roof. Until then, I am sure we will shed many more tears and question the miles that separate us. We will torture ourselves and then accept reality all in the same sentence. We will pray for miracles from God and realize that we’ve already received the greatest one. We will live in each other’s hearts because unlike our temporary homes, those are permanent and constant. We will love each other unconditionally and be grateful for that opportunity.