How do children react to parents navigating relational betrayal?
The night my children's father and I informed our children he would be leaving for a period of time was soul-crushing. Each child responded differently, and I had a bit of an out-of-body experience watching them manage the distress in our home. My ten year old, Nate, immediately broke when we told him. His wails of anguish haunted me in nightmares for many nights. In response to Nate's grief, my seven year old daughter shuttled our youngest son, who was five years old, out of the kitchen and away from the chaos. He was confused and openly asking what was wrong. Meanwhile, my twelve year old, Alex, processed the situation logically with few tears. He debated protecting his siblings or exploring his own bubbling emotions.
Our first night alone was dreadful. I tried to do the "right thing" by continuing a regular schedule. Despite trying to maintain a normal routine, I heard Nate sobbing alone in his room after I put all the children to bed. I went to his room, brought him to Alex's room, and asked if they wanted to watch TV with me. We stayed up watching Deadliest Catch until one o'clock in the morning because I felt it was crucial for us to be together. I'm glad I listened to my intuition but, looking back, I wish I had understood what was truly going on in my children's minds. I regret being so consumed by my own pain that I couldn't be more present for them.
I hope this letter, written by a 10 year old, will assist mothers in identifying some of the challenges their children face. Above all, I want to remind the mothers reading this to show kindness to themselves. You cannot have all the solutions, and you will not handle everything flawlessly. What you do possess, that IS flawless, is the grace of God and an unconditional love for your children.
Dear Mom,
I’m not sure what’s happening in the house. I mean, I know Dad isn’t home and you are sad, but I don’t understand. You and Dad argued a bit, but why did he leave? You both said he hurt you, but I don’t see any bruises. How did he hurt you? Will he hurt me, too?
I’m trying to make sure my little brothers are ok. Brian cried really hard when you told him Dad was leaving. I felt like crying, too, and I did, a little, but I don’t want to make you more sad. Is that ok? Or should I cry more so you know I’m sad he left and I love him, too? I just don’t know what to do.
When we were going to the grocery store today, I asked you why your shoulders are all curved and you are sitting so slouchy when you drive. You answered that you didn’t realize you were doing that. I even saw you doing weird stuff with your mouth- it looked like you were chewing on the insides of your cheeks. I’ve never seen you act that way. Are you ok? Can’t we just have Dad come back? Can’t he make up for how he hurt you?
Will I do something that will make you tell me to leave? I don’t want to be a terrible person that you don’t love. I feel really awful inside. I think I’m scared, but I can’t quite figure out what is scaring me.
Mom, do you love me? You cry a lot. I hope it isn’t anything I’ve said. I’m trying really hard to be good so you don’t get mad at me. I don’t want you to be sad. I don’t want my brothers to be sad. But I’m really sad, too.
I miss eating at the dining room table on Sundays. Why did you stop cooking? I’ll clean up for you if that would make it easier. I’m sorry for the times I complained when you asked for help. I hope you won’t get mad at me about that. I’ll do better.
I’m glad you still tuck me in at night. I like it when you read to me and snuggle with me. But sometimes, when you think I don’t know, I see you wipe your eyes, like you have tears you don’t want me to know about.
What do you do when you go into your room and close the door? Sometimes it sounds like you are crying and other times I hear you talking, like you are very angry. I’m scared. I don’t understand what is happening.
Today when you started crying in the kitchen, I tried to help you and say everything will be ok. You looked at me, hugged me, and said you were having a sad day. You had so many tears on your face. I don’t want you to be sad.
My shoulders are slouchy now, too. I don’t know what to do to make this better.
Betrayal destroys the intimate sense of safety for everyone in the home. If you have children, talk to them. They see you, they feel you, they adore you.
I have used an analogy with children of a suitcase when they ask questions. The idea is this:
“Dad and I have a suitcase full of stuff. The suitcase is really heavy- in fact, it is too heavy for you to carry, so we are going to carry it. You don’t need to try to carry it. We have it. We are trying to understand all the items in the suitcase. When you get older and we think the time is right, we might pull some of the items out of the suitcase and share them with you, but right now, we are strong enough to hold on to it. We’ve got it.”
The children can choose the color of the suitcase, decide on words or pictures they would like to have on it (such as emotion words), determine how big it is, etc. However, the most important thing is that the children need to know that you will carry it. If it becomes too heavy, you can place it on the ground and take a break, but you will always be capable of holding onto it.
I beg you take courage; the brave soul can mend even disaster.
~Catherine the Great
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