Seeing the symmetry
I hung up the phone and the sound of Kate crying a lonely heartbroken cry hung in the air. My heart ached but I knew that her bedtime routine and a good night’s sleep would give her the comfort she craved from my arms. I didn’t feel guilty, but I’ve come a long way since our first trip away from the kids.
My brother’s 40’s birthday surprise party provided the ideal excuse for my husband and I to take a trip when Michael was 11 months and Kate was 2 1/2. It was a good time to wean Michael and Kate was unusually assured in her home. I reasoned that as long as they maintained their routine they would be fine.
I travelled to the airport alone and it was the first time in over 2 years that I felt truly in charge of my time. When I got on the plane I felt a giddy freedom as I realized that I didn’t have anyone to settle into a seat, snacks to produce or infant safety instructions to hear. I fell asleep as soon as they turned the air on in the cabin. It was glorious.
I met my husband in Calgary on a bright, clear winter day, and we felt like we were playing hooky from our life. We walked around the city, stopped by the river for beer , and happily absorbed one another’s familiar company. But naturally, I called home at the first possible moment. “When are you coming home, Mummy?” Kate asked, with sadness in her voice. Ouch. Two year olds don’t understand time and 5 sleeps is a long time. I had no reassuring reply to offer my little girl. For the first time I felt her real legitimate need for my presence, with an intensity that our normal day to day routine masks.
For the rest of the trip the kids didn’t sleep well and there were typical winter ailments which preyed upon what I can only perceive as their compromised immune systems. It was distracting, guilt inducing and a real lesson for me about the delicate dance of intimacy that a loving family creates. While I loved being with my husband again, catching up with my family and completing a thought without interruption I realized that without me (and Daddy) the puzzle of their internal landscape was incomplete. My presence makes a difference to their minds, bodies and souls.
While I prepare once again to bound through the front door and embrace my babes, I realized that I re-confirmed my place in the world every time I am away. My kids learned to cope with my absence (Kate turning to her Kitty and using some of the love I tell her pour into her heart every day) and are increasingly resilient. But every rare trip away reminds me how I complete them, and they complete me. It’s a balancing act which needs to be shifted now and again to appreciate the brilliance of the symmetry we share day to day.