Winning and Losing

I’m jumping from project to project this morning, never quite finishing one thing before I go on to the next, trying to keep myself distracted and sane as I wait for a fax from the arbitrator who is deciding where Younger Son will live until he is 18.

No matter whether I “win” or “lose,” I am losing. And I feel incredibly sad that my son has moved out of the house at 16, when I thought he would be with me until he was 18 at least.

I pulled out a photo of the two of us when Younger Son was 3 or 4. We are leaning our heads together and smiling identical smiles, and the photo makes me cry.

Our relationship has been damaged by this mediation/arbitration, because for the first time ever, my son and I have been on opposite sides in a dispute between his father and me. In the past, it had always been me trying to get Younger Son what he wanted in disputes with his father.

If nothing else, it seems to have brought the two of them closer together, which was one of my goals, but I suspect it is a temporary alliance born of necessity.

What’s this all about?
Well, that’s the sad part. The whole thing started last fall when I realized that I was too worn down by my cancer treatment to be a good full-time parent to my younger son. I was still in bed when he left the house for school in the morning, and I was headed for bed again by 6 p.m., about the time he got home after cross-country practice.

We rarely ate dinner together anymore, because I was rarely eating dinner in those days (or now). No appetite at that time of day.

Then Younger Son began having some problems of his own, unrelated to my cancer, and I simply couldn’t cope. If I hadn't been a single parent, we probably could have held it together. But no, just me.

I asked his father, who lives in San Francisco, to take him for the spring semester, but his father refused, and parked Younger Son with a classmate in Seattle. I’ve been seeing him a couple of times a week. Now, we have to decide whether he remains in Seattle next year and starts college early, or goes to live with his father for a year.

One of my readers put it best in an e-mail to me, “You’re trying to push a reluctant son toward a reluctant father, because you think it is better than the alternative.” That’s exactly it.

We couldn’t agree, so we ended up in a session with a mediator/arbitrator last Friday. The way that worked is that she tried to get the two of us parents to agree, and when it became clear that we never would it was left to her to make a decision as an arbitrator.

Neither of the options is perfect, for any of us. I see that clearly. But I need to know that my son is living with parental supervision until he is 18, even if it is not my supervision.

I’m Not Good at This Waiting Stuff
It’s 1:30 p.m. and the fax has not yet arrived at my lawyer’s office. My anxiety and grief are going through the roof. I think I’ll fold a few towels and then go pot a couple of plants. Then back to check the e-mail yet again (the 12th time today).

Now, it’s 2:40, the plants are potted, and look lovely. I also watered the strawberry bed. Now I’m back to chewing my nails. Going to call my lawyer’s office to see if they have the fax, and if not, I’ll take Constant for a walk. Rain has stopped for a few minutes anyway. It’s cool and fresh.

(If you’re wondering why I watered the strawberries when it’s raining: The rain wasn’t heavy enough to soak them. Berries need a lot of water at this stage.)

Grief. I feel like I failed my son. I realize that the cancer was not my fault, but I still feel that mother guilt that is so much better expressed in Japanese: “I went and got cancer on them,” is said in Japanese with a verb form called the “adversity passive,” which we don’t even have in English.

“My father died on me” is about the closest we can get, but it’s not a unique verb construction like the adversity passive in Japanese, which has the implication that you were harmed by the other person’s action built right into the meaning of the verb form. But I'm digressing here.

It’s 3:10. Called my lawyer, who was not available. Asked his assistant if the fax had arrived, and she didn’t know. Left a voice mail message.

CCed on an e-mail from my lawyer to the arbitrator, asking where her ruling is. So now I wait some more. Guess I’ll take Constant for a walk. My bag of tricks is about empty.

After all this, at 3:15 an e-mail arrives from the mediator/arbitrator’s assistant saying that the mediator is not quite done—had to go to a doctor’s appointment—and won’t have a decision for us until tomorrow.

This calls for major coping skills. And now the rain is pouring down, so no dog walk till it slows down.

I guess it was a mistake to water the strawberries after all.

Note: If you are new to my blog, you may not realize that I am extremely sensitive about people giving me unwanted advice.

Please do not e-mail me telling me what I should have done in this family situation. Or post a comment saying something like, “No matter what happens, it will all turn out for the best.” Or, “You did the best you could.” This is not helpful.

What I feel is grief, and I don’t need to be pushed or prodded out of my grief or my sense of loss at no longer having my much-loved son living with me.

Words of sympathy and support are gratefully accepted.

@ Jeanne Sather 2007.

Comments

[Jacqueline]

Son-of-a-crappin-crapper!!! Your situation STINKS royally!!! And for the love of God a woman's work is never done or as deeply appreciated as it should be! Damned when you do (whatever you think is best) and damned if you don't (do what you think isn't best).
It's 10:44 pm my time in NY and I'm over here hoping that you discover some way to relax during the night- got any good movies? any drawers/files to organize? are those strawberries ready to top a sundae? Well Jeanne, when I hit the pillow tonight I'll just visualize you sleeping peacefully... with Constant snoring near by.

[debutaunt]

I'm sorry. That is a very un-fun situation to be in all around. If I were there, I'd give you a big hug. I'm lousy with sympathy sometimes, but I give really great hugs because I'm such a glamazon.

[Jeanne]

Thank you both. I did manage to get some sleep, except for one of the cats who kept slobbering on me for attention, so now I'm up to get ready for bed properly, which includes bringing Constant in to stand guard (horizontally, of course) by my bed.

Sleep. And if the news doesn't come early tomorrow the top of my head may well pop off!

Jeanne

[Sara]

Uggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh, that sucks. I'm so sorry you all have to go through this. I hope you have already gotten an answer. Just not knowing something this big is so excruciating, and what with one thing and another this dynamic seems to have been so much a part of your life in recent years.

And yet no matter how often we wait or for what specific answers, the waiting never seems to get easier, does it? At one point I had a chain of these kinds of things -- nothing parental, but other horrible waiting scenarios of various flavors -- all backed up on each other and found myself screaming at my boyfriend, "I just want clean margins! Why can't anything in my life have clean margins?"

"Adversity passive." I'm going to chew that phrase over for awhile. Sounds like a poem all by itself.

[Lisa]

Oh dear, I am sending you prayers and positive energy. I hope that you have an answer by now so that you can at least know.

[Jeanne]

Thanks, everyone. I just got the answer a couple of hours ago--and I lost the mediation.

I'm pretty depressed right now. More later,

Jeanne