I had always hoped I would have children one day. As I got older and was approaching my mid-thirties I had started to give up on the idea that it would happen and felt quite sad about it. I had always been very much caught up in the ideal or need of having children and there was a big void in my life, something missing that I felt perhaps children could fill up or distract me from.
I can hardly credit it now but I had some very different ideas back then about what having a baby meant:
• That I could have a little person who would love me and I could love back,
• That I would be classified as a successful woman by having had a child and hold my head high in society,
• That I would be accepted even more in my family for producing a grandchild or niece/nephew,
• That I could fulfill the criteria of having a child before time ran out,
• That having a baby would complete me in some way or give added purpose to life,
• That it would appease the sadness/emptiness I was in.
Once I met my husband and we had our two children, it did not take me long to feel that all that stuff I had been feeling was false.
Whilst on the outside it looked like I was doing well, I realised I had been living my life incomplete within myself but I hadn’t been totally honest about it. There was a big part of me that felt empty and needy which I had not fully admitted to myself before.
I now knew that having children was not going to make this go away.
I would have to make the choice to fill the void by learning to love and nurture myself and to not expect my husband and children to do it for me. In fact, the unspoken demand that a man or child should fill up my emptiness was incredibly irresponsible; an outrageous burden to be placed on anyone, let alone a child.
What about simply wanting to bring a child into the world because you know that you can offer a foundation of love to that child to help it grow and evolve as a human being, without the need to be loved back or to get recognition for it?
To get to this point however, I had to get to a level of self-acceptance first and a deep appreciation for my own unique loving expression. I knew I couldn’t really offer a foundation of love to a child when my body was still rigid with deeply held hurts, resentments, sadness and emptiness.
I have now healed many of the hurts that have kept me locked within the self-perception of feeling less or not good enough which caused the emptiness I had felt and had left me feeling in constant tension. I am much more aware of how I have tried to control life and I am learning to let go of the false masks I have worn. I have done all of this not only for myself, but also in the knowledge that the quality I own in my body has its impact on those all around me, especially my beautiful children who share my life and home.
As my children have grown, now aged 5 and 7, I have noticed a huge shift within myself as I have become more committed to me and to life. I certainly do not see my children in any capacity of having to serve out any of my needs or to confirm me in any way. This is something I am committed to owning – to honestly feel what is going on for me and to work out where the gaps in love are for myself and where my negative choices have the potential to keep playing out.
This huge shift has come about with the support of Serge Benhayon and Universal Medicine. With my increasing awareness of what the different tensions in my body have been/are about, and a deep inner knowing that how I was living my life was far from the potential of the love that is within me that is natural to express, I have learnt to sift through my un-communicated feelings, articulate them and am letting them go – one by one.
The love I now hold myself in translates to the quality in which I hold my children and this is something that will continue to evolve and deepen.
So now I have seen that having children is a great opportunity to:
• Know when to step in and take a step back,
• Hold myself steady when they lose it or make some daft choices so that they don’t feel belittled or less,
• Appreciate the joy in our loving connection and in their developing expression in the world,
• Support them to connect with their inner wisdom and encourage them to make their own choices by allowing them to feel the consequences of their mistakes,
• Hold them more deeply in love and just observe – in this space they see for themselves whether the choices they make are loving or not,
• Hand trust in themselves back to them so they are not needy of anything from outside,
• Support them to understand what they need to work on and/or let go of, to be the greater love that they naturally are,
• Know that their worth and utter amazingness is in who they are and not in what they do.
Being a parent has many challenges, but when I am able to behold my children in true love, not the emotional, needy love we are so used to, a beautiful tender quality is created, giving them the space and opportunity to rise up to it – lovingly so.
I often talk with my children about the quality of being we choose in every moment and that we are equal in this. I encourage my children to articulate when they feel I have gone hard, the quality that is opposite to love. When they express themselves without any reaction I feel truly blessed and held.
I am so full of appreciation and love for the fact that they are choosing to express the truth they are feeling – saying it as it is. My learning has supported theirs and they in turn support me again.
After all I have learned, observed, felt and experienced, I see my role as a parent very much one of supporting my children to know who they are, to love and appreciate themselves in full for all the amazingness that they individually bring, whilst supporting them to take responsibility for their choices and to be catalysts for true love in a world that sorely needs it.
As a responsible parent I continue to let go of any investment in this particular outcome, freeing up more space for more observation and more love and support – truly getting out of the way and allowing them the freedom to evolve at their own pace.
By Michelle McWaters