What makes us who we are? That's the question of the last part of my mini-psychology course. I had an argument/debate/ramble with my atheist boyfriend about the existence of souls on boxing day. I know - we REALLY know how to live. I believe we (and all animals) have souls, he believes we are a combination of nurture and nature.
I have my two little boys. I saw them the moment they drew breath (well, slightly after that moment with my little, as he was all tangled up behind me) and looked into their eyes. An endless depth of blue and intelligence and humanity. A newborns eyes are not blank, there is something there. Someone.
You would expect two children, of the same parentage, born merely two years and five weeks apart, to be similar infants. But within hours, their personalities were taking shape. My younger baby is what we like to call 'zen'. From birth, he was happy to sit back and watch the world go by. As he's growing up, he's changing all the time, but he remains fundamentally laid back. My eldest has always been much harder to please. From the moment, aged 16 hours old, he decided he'd had enough of sleeping and wished to eat, he has been demanding my attention. These slight differences in babies were apparent within 24 hours of delivery. How much of that can be blamed on me, as their mother and single common factor?
Of course, I had two wildly different pregnancies. With Child 1, I was sick from conception. I was paranoid, bled frequently, spent most of my time analysing every single kick and twinge and gave birth, after a lengthy pre-labour, pretty much bang on time. With Child 2, I didn't feel particularly pregnant apart from brief hyperemesis in the first trimester and once his father had buggered, I didn't give a crap what was going on most of the time. He eventually emerged, two weeks late, without much fuss. Perhaps my maternal negligence contributed to his easy going nature. Perhaps my first-baby paranoia contributed to my eldest's demanding ways.
Perhaps it's that they have different combinations of me and their dad's personality. I am fairly laid back, it takes a long time to wind me up enough to snap, but when I do it's volcanic and I hold a grudge. Their dad is constantly on the very edge of flying off the handle. His temper is short enough to be considered non existant, but doesn't last and then is forgotten. I am happy just to sit, where their dad has to be on the go at all time. I certainly see aspects of both our personalities reflected in the children. But they are far from mere shadows of their parents. They are themselves and nothing less.
I worry about, and actively fight against, the stigma and emotional issues of coming from a broken home. There will be awkward questions asked, for which we have to try and get the answers right to stop them thinking it was ever their fault. And me and their father need to work together to try and stay stable. I've made it a point of honour to never fight with him in front of them, to never badmouth him in front of them, and to act like the whole situation is normal. I hate it when parents being divorced is used as an excuse for unacceptable behaviour. It is too easy, when divorcing, to become more childish than the children involved. Too easy to become petty, for it to all become a game of one-upmanship and taunts and vicious verbal swipes.
Not on my watch.
I'm very conscious of two things currently. One is that my eldest's surgery was postponed to the 13th of January. That is a mere 7 and a half days now. The second is that my OU course starts in 30 days. For my next preparatory trick, I'm going to poke a stick at a module on psychology in the 21st century. I'm considering doing a few psychology/neurology related units to top my degree up (in about four years, I don't know WHY I'm thinking about it now). But we shall see. It does not do to think too far ahead.
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