Generally speaking, I don’t spook easily, and I’m not the type to run or panic when a situation is rough. I can honestly say ‘I’ve been there, done that’, and I can say it with a tremendous amount of confidence. My father used to be an MP in the RCAF and later joined the RCMP to work part time as a guard (civilian employee) for the local police detachment. He used to fingerprint and take photos of prisoners, and keep watch over the cells. Due to the fact that he’d worked around cops and had been one, he had some interesting, but also horrific stories to tell throughout the years. As he'd confessed to me later in life, he had shared the stories for two important reasons: partly to amuse, but also for their shock value, in the hopes he would instil a sense of awareness in me. So, I’m sure you can guess the fear that riddled my mind as a child. Every person out there was a potential predator. But I’m thankful for his straightforward attitude because without it I don’t know where I’d be today. He helped mould me into a very hard, but caring woman—a woman who believes in justice and protecting those less fortunate—the vulnerable and gullible. Unfortunately, there was one thing my father couldn’t have prepared me for, and that was having children of my own.
I’d taken my daughter out for a twenty-minute drive to purchase fuel in the neighbouring community. It was cheaper there and I’d wanted the company. We talked, and everything had seemed normal. And then she dropped an A-Bomb. No warning. Nothing.
“Mom there’s something I need to tell you.”
I burst into a fit of boisterous laughter and nearly drove into the ditch. In all honesty, I'd assumed it was one of her off-coloured jokes (she does so enjoy getting a rise out of me). After realizing that she was in fact serious, and allowing a few moments for the initial shock to wear off, a million things ran through my mind.
Normally, I would’ve been quite perceptive. But I didn’t have the foggiest. Was there something wrong with me? I hadn’t done drugs when I was pregnant. Why my child? In a matter of a few seconds, I’d gone up and down the scale of emotions, uncertain where to turn, or what to say. Which still didn’t make it any easier to understand and accept. For the first time in my life, I was actually panicking on the inside. It was the fear of how others would treat her. I felt sad, near tear ridden and then sick to my stomach. It was probably similar to the trepidation that had prevented her from telling me sooner. She was worried that good old, sarcastic, easy-going Mom would freak. Everyone else had known, except me—even my frigging ex! That had stung.
I screamed inside my head, “I write about shit like this!” Then I said the only thing that came to mind. “Great you told your dad first—I’ll never live this one down!” She laughed through her tears, and I told her I loved her and that I was glad she’d opened up to me.
The drive home was a haze. I was in a state of shock that didn’t subside for literally weeks. Then, one night, while sitting on the computer, I confronted my daughter and expressed my true feelings, everything from my reservations to sadness and even joy. At the end I said, “The hell with this! I don’t give a shit who you bring home just as long as he or she treats you with respect!”
As her parent, it’s my job to defend her right to sexual freedom, which is no different than defending her right to free speech. What else could I have said? I’d never disown my flesh and blood, although I’ve known people who have. Our children don’t stop being our children. And not only is she my child, she’s a human being that deserves my support and respect. It took a lot of courage to open up, to tell me her inner most secrets, and I applaud her for it.
For those that want to tell their loved ones, please give us credit. Not all of us (parents) are going to bathe you in the holy water and rant about the peril of your soul. Some of us do understand and are willing to listen.
Have a great weekend!
Happy Yaoi Hunting!