crybaby

At age 37, I had silicone implants put in.

Not in my breasts but in my tear ducts.

I have had an issue with crying my whole life. I had a violent military birth with a forceps delivery that left me with a black eye, lopsided nose and clogged tear ducts. There are no pretty baby pictures of me and when a prettier, blonde “Smith” baby was presented to my parents by the nursery staff, they were honest enough to request their actual, ugly baby.

During the crucial teen years, I had an evil step father who made it his goal to make everyone in the household cry. Therefore I made it my goal to not cry. Ever.

As a married adult, I can count on both hands the numbers of times I have cried. It is cause for great concern if my husband sees me crying–and like all husbands, he’d really rather not see me indulging in a sob fest.

And for me, the concept of indulging is key. Anger and tears are two emotions I don’t feel I can indulge in. And I hold a false, inappropriate disdain for those who can cry and benefit from it.

Apparently my lifelong practice of not crying has dried up my tear ducts. I have wore contact lenses since middle school. I am nearly blind without them but about two years ago, my eyes were irritated from the second the contact lens hit my eyeball.

After having silicone plugs put in my tear ducts and conducting some testing, it turns out I have defective tears. The average blink should coat your eye with tears that will last 13-15 seconds, before you need to blink again. My tears lasted less than 2 seconds.

I don’t know that my lack of crying actually sent my tears packing, but the result is a lifetime of wearing glasses. There is no brand of contact lens that will replace what can longer be generated.

Cry Little Children

But not crying isn’t a skill I want my children to inherit.

My children will indulge in a good cry. And it makes me happy. Just today, as Grandma and four cousins left for Michigan, Spencer shed some tears. He has a particularly sensitive heart and prefers to cry with Momma or Daddy in attendance. Delaney has sobbed over friendship slights, the death of pets and  because her best plans went awry.

I have never encouraged them not to cry. I hope it is an outlet they are able to use, as needed. And perhaps some day my tears will come back. Until then, I will rock the implants and train a dry eye on my children–learning from their example.

What personal flaws do you have that you don’t want to pass along to your children?

Tomorrow’s post is about Doubt.