She walked through Central Park holding her daughters hand.
She was carrying a few heavy bags. She had been outside in the pollen for hours that day. Her allergies didn't bother her at all. What? She pulled out her kleenex only a few times. She had just been surrounded by moms, friends, kids who cared enough about her daughter to come out and play for a few hours, and celebrate her mere existence.
She rested, conversed, took some photos, laughed. She felt engaged. Present. She was calm. Relaxed. She had fun.
It wasn't a fight to crawl over the obstacles just to be able to stand there. She was open, free, there. She was there.
As she left the park, she thought: I think I might be a good mom again.
Her older daughter had talked with her lately about some of her feelings, her perceptions of what her mom thought of her. "Ever since Lolly turned 3..." She thought (1 month after I bumped my head...I dissappeared--I wasn't there for her).
Her younger daughter has been described as tough, spirited, strong-willed, a nut. She has acted out in her own unique challenging way.
She can now see how her deep, inner struggles have affected her daughters. She is choosing not to live in that guilt and shame, but to try to fix it. She wants healing. She wants progress, she wants to strengthen their relationships. This is how she can continue to be a good mom. She has hope. She thinks she might try to tuck away a few dollars for their therapy fund. Just in case.