Every New Beginning is Some Other Beginning's End

Yes, just like the song says, it's closing time. It's time to pack things up and say my goodbyes in one place as I prepare to say hello to a whole new world. A couple of months ago, I made the decision to leave my job of 3 years working as a School-Based Therapist in Adams County Schools, to become a stay-at-home mom to our son, due to arrive July 4. While I thought that that decision would be an easy one, it proved to be much more difficult than I had anticipated. Quite honestly, I had anticipated feeling nothing but sheer excitement to have the opportunity to stay at home with my son. That to say, I did not anticipate the sadness I would feel saying goodbye to the kiddos and their families whom I've worked with over the last 3 years, my teammates and fellow School-Based Therapists at Community Reach Center, the schools I've walked into everyday, and my daily life as I know it.

While I can't say that I will miss having fire drills because one of my clients started a fire in the boys' bathroom, or having to go on lock down because there's a man outside the school with a gun, or having to call Social Services because a kid has told me that his parents are making meth in their home, I can say that there's a whole lot that I am sad to say goodbye to. I will miss entering into and being a small part of kids' lives. While it has often been a struggle for me to know that I can't "fix" their lives or even feel like I can even effect change on the systems of poverty, oppression, and abuse in which many of them exist, it was always a small comfort to know that I had the privilege of providing a safe and encouraging space for these kids in the midst of their chaotic and turbulent worlds. I held on to the idea that I could at least be a place where their voices could be heard, where they could tell their stories, and have someone be a witness to their lives. Yesterday was the last day of school. It was the last time I would have students come and sit in my office and let me into their lives, their pain, their fears, and their hopes. It was the last time I would sit with a kid in that school and listen as she re-counted the horrific events of her life, but also the last time I would get to hear her resilience, a resilience that could light up a room and defeat an army.

As I was packing up my things at one of my schools this week, the student talent show was taking place in the gym right outside of my office. For those of you who have never experienced a K-6 talent show before, it can be a bit painful...painful and extremely sweet at the same time. You see, as these kids are screeching out Mary J. Blige lyrics in a way that makes you want to cover your ears, you also can't help but noteice and appreciate their innocence and inhibition, things that all too often seem to get lost on the journey to adulthood. And so there I was, packing up my art supplies and feelings charts, a tear running down my face and laughter bubbling up from my belly as I wanted to cover my ears. It was quite a moment, a very sweet moment that I will remember for a long time.

And I am fully aware that I spent a good amount of time over the last 3 years complaining about the incessant paperwork, the constant changes, the frustration of teachers or parents who wanted and expected me to "fix" their kid and his behavior problems, and the struggle to balance all of the things expected of me in this job. It has been a tiring and emotionally draining 3 years, which is why I thought it would be so easy to leave when the time came. But the time is here and it's not so easy. Sadly, sometimes it takes actually having to say goodbye to something or someone, to realize all the things you value and love about what you had. I wish it weren't so and I actually don't think it has to be this way, but this is my experience right now. And all too often, it seems like our culture promotes this idea that if we're moving on to something exciting and wonderful, we shouldn't feel any sadness about that which we're leaving behind. I get it nearly every day when people ask me, "are you so excited to have your baby?" or "You are so lucky to stay at home with your son, I bet you can't wait!"

The truth is, I AM excited to have my baby...AND I'm terrified. I AM fortunate to be able to stay home with my son, but I'm also sad about what I'm leaving behind in order to do it. I think there's room for all of the feelings. There should be room for grief AND joy all at the same time, it's just a matter of allowing it and holding it. C.S. Lewis once said, "the grief now is because of the joy then." Those words have always left me feeling like there's actually a reason to celebrate when we feel sad about a loss, because our sadness points to the reality that there was something of value, something really good that we're saying goodbye to.

My decision to stay at home came down to feeling like I know my job, I know what it's like and what it requires of me. What I don't know is this "mommyhood" thing and I would like some time to see what this unknown is all about. I've been pouring my heart and energy into other peoples' kids for the last 14 years and now it feels like it's time to pour my energy into my own child and get a sense for what it entails and requires of me. And then I'd like to gradually incorporate work back into that picture, rather than trying to fit mommyhood into my existing life as I now know it. And for now, it's something we are able to make work, for which I feel very grateful. Everyone is different, has different wiring, different desires and dreams. This is just my journey. And while I feel like it's improtant to acknowledge the new beginning that's coming, I would be remiss not to give myself space to acknowledge and even grieve that another beginning that started 3 years ago, is coming to an end.