Ah, the blessings, trials, worries, and joys of life as a mother.  Our member, Linda O’Connell, describes the 70s and her 20s as the best of times, worst of times, filled with worries about her kids, her marriage and herself.

But she managed to find her way through the 70s with support from her friends and beginning a journey of self-discovery.  From her current vantage point, she realizes it was just life being lived.  That there was more time than she thought for smelling the roses along the way.  Of course, that realization is one of the perks of reaching midlife! 

The ’70s and my 20’s went hand in hand.  Pregnancy swelled my belly with babies and my mind with unadulterated love; hope, worry, and pride. Motherhood, my dream job, simultaneously elated and exhausted me. While I was helping my two children discover who they were, I lost sight of myself and caught an occasional glimpse of who I’d become.

When I did the dinner dishes, I’d gaze at my inverted reflection in the sterling silver spoons. The face of a clown wearing a silly grin, trying to make everyone happy, stared me down until my tears dissolved the suds. When I pulled the plug, I felt like the bits of food in the drain; I was trapped in an unhappy marriage. The love I felt for my little girl and boy was as intense as my loneliness. I kissed them every night after their prayers and tucked them into bed. Then, I drank a full glass of water so that I would wake during the night. I’d get up and check on them, cover them up and listen to their breathing. Some nights I was overwhelmed with guilt for having yelled or swatted their bottoms. They were little angels when they slept. Their fluttering eyes dreamt of yesterday, while all I could think about was tomorrow, their future; ours. I awoke during the wee hours every night for ten years, and I worried through the entire 70’s decade.
 
I dumped my marital problems at the gossip fence, and unloaded my troubles in ten page letters. Thank God for my women friends; we supported one another through turbulent times and tantrums–our own, our children’s and our spouses’. We mingled in one another’s homes, alternately sponsoring Tupperware, home decorating and jewelry parties in order to have a night out. We devoured desserts, drank spiked punch and we giggled like school girls. We permed and frosted one another’s hair, shared coffee and baked goods, magazine articles, opinions, and we compared sex lives and old lovers. Most of all, our lives were completely wrapped up in our children. As a result, I lost sight of my own potential.
 
In 1979, I enrolled in college and discovered my authentic self. I increased my self-esteem and stretched my thinking. My children and I ventured further apart, but we reconnected each night. I embraced each child and discussed our concerns and fears and all of the uncertainties and perils that faced our family.

The 70’s represents parallels: selfless giving and self-discovery, personal growth, funky fashions, unflattering hairstyles. It was a time for me to let go; move forward; to live, love and learn. I claimed Bob Seeger’s song as my mantra. I’d sing at the top of my voice, “Still running against the wind…”  Looking back, I realize I should have slowed down instead of rushed; relaxed instead of worried; laughed more and complained less. Today I’m walking, not running, and the wind at my back is sometimes a gentle breeze; some days it’s a gust.

Linda O’Connell is a widely published writer. Her inspirational and humorous essays have been featured in 13 Chicken Soup for the Soul books and other anthologies. Her prose and poetry appears in mainstream and literary magazines and on line. Linda is a seasoned teacher, wife, mother and grandmother from St. Louis who finds it challenging to walk the track at the health club but will stroll for miles and miles on a beach.

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