The Pear Tree

There it was in all its simplistic beauty, standing alone in a field, surrounded by trees, a pear tree. The ancient tree was covered in moss and ants marched up and down its trunk. It provided a sweet-smelling reprieve from the sun’s smoldering heat and supported my tired, aching back against its hard, strong trunk. Here, I could allow my anxiety and fear to evaporate into the clouds. This place became the only place that my toddler could toddle and my teen could explore and I could rest.

Three years before, I had a family. We enjoyed a middle-class life with a home, two cars, kids that enjoyed hockey and ball, and friends that lived similar lives. Slowly, my family fell apart, just like this pear tree will drop its pears. My son went to live with his father and stepmother when I was about to deliver my third child, in my second marriage. This was not the plan, I was heartbroken when I learned my son thought that I replaced him with my new son. Kids can’t be replaced, one new can never fill the void of another child. This is something that only a parent that has suffered the grief of parental alienation can understand and I hope he never understands.

After the baby came the fighting began. It’s amazing the power that one, tiny little bundle of joy has in a home. Life began to revolve around our son, feedings, changing, bathing, sleep, sports practices, and games and tournaments all blurred into one long ten months, and then it was time to go back to work.

I didn’t want to go back to work and pleaded with my husband to let me quit my job and be a stay-at-home Mother. I had already worked for 17 years and wanted to enjoy being a mom, for the last time. My husband was not willing to surrender our middle-class life and wouldn’t consent to my suggestion. With a 12-year-old, 10 months old, and weekend visits with my 8-year-old son, I returned to work.

It was like driving a car with square tires and was not feasible to continue living the way that being a mom and full-time worker required. I began to get chest pains, migraines and feel depressed. I ran, pumped milk in dirty washrooms, biked, exercised, and ate amazing food to try and survive such difficult times. My second chance at a perfect family failed and I couldn’t face the truth. Behind closed doors, anger was exploding into fists that flew too close to my head. Fear was bubbling in my chest and nights were sleepless, fatigue set in and my mom ability began to plummet. I lived in a world of perfection, guilt, shame, never feeling good enough, never having enough energy to give to everyone that needed me.

I couldn’t take the yelling and screaming and guilt and pain and ended my marriage. We lost the house, the sports and ended up in a basement suite 40 km out of town. I was all alone but gained the ability to have my son in my life every day. I had my three kids back again, my heart was full, it was really hard.

I hiked every day, pushed the stroller, and explored every trail, road, nook, and cranny of our new town. I didn’t know how to parent through the hurt and anger my children expressed in behavior. My commute to work took over three hours a day, my chest pain grew stronger, my migraines became more frequent, and I knew that I couldn’t keep going. Perhaps it was knowing that caused it to happen or something else but one night, my heart broke. I felt a great force squeeze my chest, my left arm felt as if it were gripped by a cactus, I couldn’t get up off the couch and then, it stopped.

I thought maybe that I should go to the hospital but everyone I asked to watch my toddler was not available. Next, an experience I had never had nor will likely have again happened. I was all alone and sat my son on my chest in the bath. I could suddenly see myself and my son from above and felt great peace. I was asked a question, “do you want to live”? I watched my son’s life flash before my eyes, but forward, I saw him walk across a stage and receive a diploma. I screamed with all my soul and heart that I wanted to live and witness that day, and then everything returned to normal.

Exhausted, I fell asleep with him in my arms and went to work in the morning. As soon as I began my shift, I got an ora of a migraine, it took away my vision and I knew the pain was coming. I had a supervisor drive me to the emergency room and asked for some medication. When I mentioned the pain in my chest, I had experienced the night before, they took some of my blood. Sometime later, a nurse came waving test results in my face telling me that I was lucky to be alive. She said I had a major heart attack and the blood work showed it. She scolded me for not coming to the hospital and told me that I should have called an ambulance.

After spending five days in the hospital, I was discharged with a suspended license, I was not allowed to drive for 30 days. My first ex-husband decided to purchase a home 600 km away and took my kids away. He knew that I couldn’t fight him in court with no job and no health.

I wandered into the field and sat below the pear tree. Because I told God I wanted to live, I wondered if I made a mistake. Suddenly, I had wanted to change my mind, but the pear tree made it ok. Its peace was the only stability I had and if I sat long enough, I felt like its roots joined with myself and I became grounded. I sought the tree and made the difficult trek through the vines and forest to get into the field. No one came here, it was my private and sacred space that summer.

When my children left, I fell apart and prayed to a God that I didn’t really believe in to take my life. One day, I bought a pack of cigarettes and a burger from Mc Donalds and pulled over on a very busy road. I put on a movie for my toddler to watch and sat on the hood of my car. I thought that if I ate a burger and smoked a pack of cigarettes my heart would cease beating, someone would find my son and he would be raised by better people than me.

At the lowest point of my life, thinking that without my kids I was nothing, I lit cigarette after cigarette and waited. I waited and waited, and waited some more, and eventually, the movie ended, and I was ok. Defeated, I asked God why he kept me alive and went home to put my son to bed.

The next morning, we went for a hike in the forest. He tolled and chased butterflies and I asked the pear tree what the purpose of my life was. I cried my heart out to a God that I was pretty sure could hear me and made a decision to make my life matter. I said goodby to the pear tree and vowed to provide my son with the stability that the pear tree provided me with that summer. I went back to school to become a Social Worker and work in the hospital. I realized that there was more to life than being a good mom. I received a diagnosis of angina and learned that severe stress causes harm to the body. For years, I worked with a counselor and processed my grief, unprocessed trauma, abandonment issues, and faced the people that I hurt in the past.

I didn’t just rebuild my life; I tore down everything that was not mine and built an intentional life. I found people that loved me for who I am to be my friends, I made peace with my children, and they learned that a lot of what they were told about me was not true, I apologized for allowing them to be hurt by my husband, I offered them a safe space to heal. I made peace with God and started to build a relationship that goes beyond a church, dogma, or the Bible. I found myself.

When I look back over the past decade of my life, I hold that summer dear to my heart. The sacred space the pear tree provided changed my life. It’s beauty and peace, in solidarity all alone in a field, surrounded by trees long forgotten about.