Guilt

How can I talk to you about guilt?   It's not an easy subject and I feel awkward talking about it, but sometimes when I stop and analyse my feelings, they seem to be conditioned by guilt.

When my daughter was born, I grieved - we all did - for the daughter we were expecting and didn't get.  Time goes by and the grief calms down.  It never disappears entirely because there are hundreds upon hundreds of little things that other children do that remind you your own child can't; but it abates.  It becomes replaced with pride in what your child can do, rather than what they can't.  Suddenly, you have this amazing opportunity to see life from another perspective and you stop searching for those rose-tinted spectacles that made life the way you wanted to see it, and you clean the lenses of your old glasses, and suddenly get a whole new view.

Most of the time it's rewarding, it gives you courage to go on, it fills your heart with love for your child who tries so darn hard to do everything in life that they can.  Then there are times when your 'life spectacles' cloud over and it takes time to get back the right perspective.  The knock-backs are still there, but can be seen differently and learned from. Yet, even the smallest of knock-backs can still hurt.

"I visited my niece yesterday, Mum.  It was lovely, and she is so sweet.  I played with her on the floor, but she didn't smile at me, just at her own mother.  And the clothes I bought for her, well, they don't want them.  They've got enough clothes."

And immediately I feel hurt on her behalf.  I know how she has shopped in all the second-hand places for these little clothes.  I know how she has bargained for them and I know how carefully she has washed them all, hung them out to dry, folded them and taken them as gifts for her niece.  

"Mum, I hope you don't mind, but I have been thinking about not visiting Grandma much any more.  (Grandma is in a retirement home.  She is frail and forgetful.)  I just don't think she knows me, really.  She tells me she does things like play bowls, and I know she doesn't.  And she never says goodbye to me."

And immediately I feel hurt again.  I know how she plans her visits to Grandma, how she takes her little things that she thinks she might like.  I, too, wish Grandma was not like this.  I feel guilty that my daughter is not loved enough.  I feel guilty that I am not loving her enough to prevent even the slightest knock-back.

So, I asked, "Did you mind when your sister said not to bring any more clothes because they have plenty?  And do you mind not going to see Grandma, now that she is old and forgetful?"

And here's when I know my feelings of guilt are totally unfounded -

"No, not at all.  I know they've got heaps of clothes!  They're already spilling out of the cupboard!  And no, I don't mind about Grandma - I don't want to upset her."