The daily prompt asks what role the number 26 played in my life. A big one. My first son was born on the 26th of August, 29 years ago. I had trouble getting pregnant which did not ostensibly disturb my then husband but depressed the hell out of me. I intellectually understood that a biological child was not the only was to have one, I also could not viscerally deny the impact this temporary reality had on my gut.
Having Jesse and then 3 more children, manifested a passion I’d first noticed in my early teens. I was highly protective of young people – physically and emotionally. I’d worked with them as a babysitter, camp counselor and teacher. I’m sure some of this stemmed from my own youthful pain, which (I felt) wasn’t addressed. Not from neglect or lack of love but from deep pain that prevented my parents’ from seeing mine and a lack of awareness regarding what to do with it if they did.
You see, the number 26 began close to a life long process where love, protection and awareness became paramount in my existence. Sometimes this made life more painful, sometimes it presented extraordinary moments of joy. I wouldn’t let go of the number 26 (21, 22 or 7); not for a private tropical island (frown), eternal youth (sigh) or enough money to last beyond this lifetime (deep breath). My life was meant to have been lived as a mom – and number 26 was where it began.