collateral damage
I know that Mother's Day is, for many of us, a difficult day, a day on which we think about our lost children, mourning the fact that we don't seem to count as mothers in the eyes of the world or, perhaps, in our own eyes, mourning the fact that all our children aren't with us. For me, though, Mother's Day has never been about me or my children. Instead, it's a day on which I think about my own mother and mourn the fact that, for reasons I can't quite understand, I'm not with her.
My brother and I always said that no occasion was truly complete until our mother turned to me and said, more in sorrow than in anger, "Niobe, you've ruined my [insert name of holiday]." I ruined so many Mother's Days and birthdays and Fourth of Julys and Thanksgivings and Christmases, that I imagine my mother, as she has brunch today with her other children and step-children, taking a certain grim satisfaction at the idea that, on this Mother's Day, I'm sad because I'm thinking of her.
I've never been able to explain what made things so difficult between me and my mother. Different temperaments, perhaps. Or because my childhood coincided with a long run of turbulent years for her. Or because she disliked and resented her own mother. But, for whatever reason, it seemed that I could never be what my mother wanted me to be, could never do what my mother wanted me to do. We were always fighting and I always lost. No matter how angry I got, my mother could always get angrier and she held the trump card. I loved her and I couldn't be sure if she really loved me.
When I was thirteen, during the chaos that followed my mother's second divorce, I decided to go live with my father and his family, and left, taking my little brother with me. My mother didn't speak to me for six months. She remarried right away and had a child with her new husband. "Niobe," I remember her saying, "you have to remember that I have another daughter now. I don't need you anymore."
Eventually, I grew up and we came to a truce. We weren't exactly close, but we didn't fight and I called my mother almost every week and, once in a while, spent a weekend at her house. When I was pregnant with the twins, my mother was thrilled. She was going to take a month off from work to stay with me. She called all the time to see how I was doing. I know she was buying baby presents, though I told her not to give me anything until -- until I was sure everything was going to be all right.
When it turned out that everything was not going to be all right, my mother came and visited me in the hospital, talked to me, encouraged me to eat. But even then, I could feel her anger building and, by the time I came home, everything I did made her furious.
I was, she told me as I cried and refused to go outside, wallowing in my sorrow. I spoiled my oldest niece's first birthday party, held a few weeks after the twins' deaths, because I hid in an upstairs bedroom, unable to bear seeing the sister-in-law who was eight months' pregnant. I put too many restrictions on what she said, because I asked her not to talk about my stepbrothers' babies. I wasn't grateful enough for all she'd done for me. Now, a year and a half after the twins' deaths, my mother has refused to see me or speak to me for months.
Now, I'm sure I'm making my mother sound like a monster. But she isn't. Really, she isn't. And I'm sure that if she ever read this post, the story I'm telling would be incomprehensible to her. "That's not the way I remember it," I can hear her saying. But, as I see it, the loss of my mother is, in many ways, the saddest part of the twins' deaths. A stone, dropped into a lake, disappears almost immediately. But the ripples -- oh, the ripples. They etch widening circles until they collide with a distant shore.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you and miss you and wish I could fix whatever's wrong between us. I hope that by next Mother's Day I'll be able to say that to you.
Please use the comments to let us know where you are -- literally and figuratively -- and what you're thinking about this Mother's Day.
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Ah, niobe. I'm thinking about my own difficult mother. Wondering why in seventy-two years, nothing's been enough to make her happy. Even me. Even my brother. Even our children. Wondering how much longer I'll try (vainly) to make her happy. Wondering when I'll consider the cost to me, of her anger and pain, too much -- not worth it. Wondering what a life lived with a different kind of mother might have been like.
And I'm sorry, really sorry, about the situation with your mom. She doesn't know what a good thing she's missing.
She was always crying, always disappointed. I'll call her today. She'll sigh and I'll know that she's feeling sorry for herself, that I didn't do enough. After my child died, my husband called my aunt and asked her to tell the family. I wasn't in any shape to talk to anyone and he knew I was closest to my aunt. The day after being released from the hospital, I called my mother to tell her. I knew that if I didn't tell her, she would be angry with me and feel sorry for herself. Her first words to me after I told her, "I wish I had been told first."
Oh, Niobe. I hardly know what to say about the way things are with your mother. It makes me want to scoop you up, bring you here for fruit salad and pancakes, and let you have my mom for a while to give you some of what you are missing, even though I know that there's no replacement in full for your mother.
Assvice alert: I don't think that what is wrong between the two of you is for you to fix, because you weren't the one who broke it. I have some other thoughts about it, but don't want to overstep with my gut reaction thoughts.
But, I know what it's like to see the negative in your mother but want to rationalize it away and soften the edges around it. Your mother is your mother, and I think no matter what there's the inherent desire for a child to always want to see their mother in her best light, even when there are shadows than warm, maternal sunshine.
*I copied the rest of my response below on my blog. After I typed it, it seemed like it was relevant to put there, especially since I've been trying to find away to approach Mother's Day.*
As for me, today I'm in a weird place. Lots to be grateful for and I'm happy, but the people who are not are present at the forefront of my mind. I'm thinking of Mia and her four lost babies. She will come here this evening and she also starts stims tonight. This always feels like the first foot forward past the point of no return. It's that moment when I feel like I take a deep breath and hold it until whatever is going to happen happens.
Mostly, in my mind there is the thought that this time next year, maybe she'll be a mom to a baby in her arms and not just the four she carries in her heart.
Today is a difficult day for me. Not only is it Mother's day but it is also my angel's death date. 1 year ago today my child died in my arms. Not only that but it is also my mother's first mother's day without my dad. He is now gone too and it is difficult to be there for my mom when I myself and hurting so much inside. I think the part that hurts the most isn't so much that it has been a year since London died, I think it is the fact that it has been a year and I still have empty arms and am not even pregnant. It just hurts! I want to be a mom again. Hopin this mother's day find everyone else okay.
I have a tear in my eye Niobe, it isn't fair, she should read this, I don't think you have much to lose either way.
My own mother and I are a long story whereby the fix was to distance myself from her but take her in small doses which avoids confrontation. It works but like you, I wish we were much, much closer. It does make Mothers day bittersweet for me too.
HUGS
Niobe, your mother's problems are not your fault. Not your fault. (Repeat after me.) I am so sorry that the two of you have such a difficult relationship; it isn't right, not at all. You deserve better. I'm so sorry she let you down, time and time again. No, she's not a monster, but she certainly is lacking...emotional awareness? A lack of perspective? I dont' really know what to call it.
I'm just sorry.
I wish I am close to my mother. We are trying, and I know we will never get to that point. That point that dh likes to say is mythical, or just urban legend. But there are women who have beautiful rel'ships with their mothers. At least we talk.
I am sorry about your mother. Sometimes family are the hardest and the last to want to understand; the last to want to let give and move on.
Paige, I am sorry about your son London. I am sorry for your hurting. Hugs to you.
Niobe, I'm sorry that you have this added burden to bear following the loss of the twins. Based on this telling of events, at least, please don't think it is your responsibility to "fix" things.
I'm at home today on Mother's Day, where it's safe, alone with DH. I told my mom I couldn't celebrate with her this year, it would be too hard. I sent her a card and gift, and called her, but that's the most I can do. I feel selfish, knowing she's alone today (my brother, his wife and their new baby took her to dinner yesterday but are spending today with the in-laws), but I'm still focused on self-preservation, seeing as it's been only 7 weeks since our Doodles died. She claims to understand, but I sense disappointment in her voice, self-pity that she's alone today. Maybe next year I can do better.
I'm very lucky to have a wonderful support system, so that I'm acknowledged today, remembered, even if I can't have the traditional "Happy Mother's Day".
To everyone else struggling today, please know that I am thinking of each and every one of you, and that we are all mothers, whether or not we have our children here with us.
I am very close to my Mom. It saddens me that others are not. My Mom and I had the turbulent teen years, we disliked one another, immensly! Now, we are inseperable. She is my light house if you will, my grounding post. She is the one I turn to when I am in dire need of being brought back to reality. She is gentle, sweet, loving, and kind.
I am sorry that you don't have the close relationship with your mother you wish you had. I hope next year you can "fix" what ever is between you and spend some time getting to know one another as a Mother/Daughter team.
Paige, thinking of you today hoping you find some peace. I too, am incredibly sorry for your loss.
beautiful sentiment about the ripples, and so true. I hope one day you are able to make it right for you.
I think I've spent my life since age 12 trying to find the right balance with my mom. I feel fortunate that she wants to be connected and involved, but she can be so meddlesome, judgmental and controlling that it's not worth it. plus it's so late in the game to let her in now, so I give enough to keep her involved but keep a distance. growing up I was far closer with my grandmother, who's been gone 10 years this month.
I am sorry that things are broken between the two of you right now. I wish it could be different for you. I can't imagine how hard it must be to be estranged from your Mother. I hope that it's different this time next year.
"You're kind of insane." This from my husband 2 minutes ago.
That's about right.
Sorry things are so hard with your mom. I will echo other assvice here in saying it is not your job alone to fix your relationship with her. I do hope things will get better. It hurts so much when people judge the way you grieve, or only think of themselves when you are the one who is suffering most directly. It's not the kind of support you hope for from your mom.
Sometimes I wonder how my mom would have dealt with my loss, had she not become ill, or if she had recovered from her illness. I wonder what kind of perspective that brings. If any. Would she react like my sister? Like my dad? Like my grandmother? Or some other way.
One of the things I miss most about my mom is her hug. It wasn't a big, bear hug, but it, it was so good. Safe. And I miss sitting with her in bed, before she was sick, watching TV. Her glasses halfway down her nose, knees pulled up with a crossword on her lap.
I just lost my dad, and I am so very very sad for my mother, who has lost the love of her life. It's her 50th birthday in two weeks and I'm doing my damnedest to make sure she's okay.
I wish it were different for you and your mom, Niobe.
Today I am ok. Hung out in a coffee shop for a long time where I was the only obvious mother. Small college towns are good for that. You can always find a place where the vast majority of the population are too young and self-absorbed to notice you. And it's pouring buckets out there, so even the family brunching is muted.
My mother is difficult in so many ways - but mostly because she's a narcissist. Oh not the kind that spends time or money on herself, but the kind who was jealous at my wedding. When I had the third IVF, scheduling difficulties meant that my husband wasn't really able to come and get me at the hospital after the retrieval - so I asked my mother - it's not like she had a job or anything. Her response? Dead silence, followed by "how would I do that?" She did end up doing it, but with such agita. And over time, she's pushed oh so many people away - friends, and her own mother. My siblings and I are stymied as to what our grandmother did so wrong. And my father? On the one hand, they've been divorced for years, and she acts like she's never gotten over it. On the other hand, she claims to have had a terrible marriage. I ask you - how do you have it both ways like that?
Most of all, I want a good relationship with my own child. I am keeping my fingers crossed.
Niobe - I hope that next year at this time does bring you closer to your own mother.
Paige - I saw your post only after I posted. I'm so sorry that this day has to be doubly hard for you. You're in my thoughts, as is London. Many hugs to you across cyberspace.
I'm so sorry Niobe. And I understand this to some degree as in our house today, the Mr. has called his mother at least three times and she hasn't picked up the phone. Somewhere along the way we lost her this year, too. I know it's not our fault, but it's definitely because the baby died and it's hard to be on this side of that fence of responsibility.
I made a donation to "Now I lay me down to sleep" in honor of my mother, who was thrilled to pieces. And I worked outside for about six hours, and now I'm ready for a hockey game and a beer.
I have had three miscarriages in the last 7 months, so I thought today was a good day to occupy myself with cooking a big family brunch. As I've been thinking about mothers day approaching, I have been reminding myself that I was a good mother to those little babies, even though my body failed them. But being around other people can be such a minefield. Today my mother compared my situation to a girl she knows from work who's daughter was stillborn, and reminded us how LUCKY we are. My stepfather told us last night that his mother miscarried before she had him-- that he wouldn't be here if that hadn't happened. And isn't that a good thing?! My husband is appalled and hurt terribly, and I feel a bit numb to it all. I wish I was free of the expectations I have of my family, that they could see clearly the pain we are in, but they never seem to get it.
I'm sorry about your mom, Niobe. My own relationship with my mother is overall pretty good, although she can get on my nerves at times. She dropped everything & flew 1,000 miles (even though she hates flying) to come be with me when I delivered Katie (came straight to the hospital, with about 4 hours to spare), helped us organize the funeral & took care of us afterwards. I try to think about her today (& my grandmother, who would have turned 94 today) but it's hard not to wallow in my own feelings of loss & deprivation. (((hugs)))
ah Niobe...i am so sorry. i think being unsure of a parents' love is one of the cruellest things, for a kid.
i've wondered for a long time, just from the bits and pieces you've mentioned, if your mother isn't caught in grieving something of her own, that somehow you've always inadvertently triggered...and moreso when the twins died? maybe not. i still wish you could have gotten the support you deserved. i do hope maybe by next year some of the wounds have found healing.
and today...? a lucky day, for me, this year. i've been on my couch, mostly, interspersed with some couch time at various family members' homes, but i was blessed with that rare sense of actually being loved by people who've left me unsure for years.
Paige...just wanted to say i'm so sorry for the day you're having.
Niobe, and everyone else for whom this day is anything but gentle and kind, I am so sorry.
Paige, I wish I had anything beyond the I am sorry, but I have learned over the last 15 months that there really isn't anything else. I am sorry this day is such a double whammy for you. Anniversaries are hard enough without the whole world also celebrating what must seem like in your face. I hope you were able to find a measure of peace in the day somehow.
RM, that was rather a large pile of steaming insensitivity your family dished out in exchange for a lovingly prepared brunch. So sorry...
I am on my couch now, about to go get the dinner on the table. I largely succeeded in making the day very low key and not much different from any other Sunday. Overall, a lot less unpleasant than I was anticipating.
That's sad, niobe. I wonder about what Bon said. You never know what backstory you may not be privy to, issues that you trigger for her, demons that you inadvertantly pull to the surface. What can be done about this, I've got no clue.
I've got a figure like this in my life, and I've tried as hard as I can to not take her demons personally. But sometimes it's near-impossible, the hurtful things that are said to minimize the pain of last year - because this person's philosophy is recovery by sheer denial, by forcible muzzling. After I expressed nerves that the twins' first birthday was coming up, she scoffed and said that Liam was 'nothing more than a common gynecological problem' that 'everyone' experiences in life. I hung up the phone and wanted to break a window, feeling almost violently angry. It takes work, and sometimes it's toxic. But I love her, and try as hard as I can to get past it. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't.
(The only reason I write about this a little bit freely here is because this side of the family thinks blogging is undignified and embarrassing and an enabler of prolonged grief and 'creepy', so there's some degree of safety in me and my words being shunned.)
This mothers' day I'm thinking about how love can be so selfless, and yet so selfish at the same time. That even when we're called to bat during a trial of a loved one, how we respond comes down to us - our history, our shortfalls and disappointments. I just wish there was some way to speak frankly. But instead, toxicity festers, and that's a damn sad thing.
Thank goodness, my mom and I have a great relationship. When the twins were born and when Liam died she and my father were in the NICU constantly, even getting the boys out for grammy and grampa cuddles when I wasn't there. It takes guts to be brave enough to love a child that might die and break your heart. I'm so proud of them for that - it meant that they stood beside us, and that was the world.
Paige, I'm thinking of you too. This is a hard day for all of us, but a hundred times more for you with such cruel coincidence.. I wish it didn't have to be this day. I hope you're surrounded by love today, and maybe a bottle of wine too.
Thought-provoking post niobe. I hope next year will be vastly different for you in so many ways.
Niobe I am so sorry your mother said such cruel things to you. Whatever her reasons are, her behaviour is unacceptable.
Where am I? I am falling. Mother's Day saddens me because I feel I am not turning out to be the mother I envisioned. Sad about my son's diagnosis. Sad.
Isn't it your mother who is the psychologist? I wonder what she would say about your relationship. I wonder what your brother says - he obviously gets it, or no?
I'm really sorry. For everyone suffering today.
Niobe when I read your post, I hated your mother. And when you said 'she's not a monster' I thought ... yes she is.
I have my own mother issues going on at the moment, which possibly clouds my view. My mother really WAS a monster. But now she is in therapy and looking at how awful she was, and wants to get close to me. Ugh. It's repulsive. I am due to have a baby next week, she keeps pressuring me to let her be there. I find myself hoping I go into labour early and not telling her.
Niobe -- My mom and I have our ups and downs. We have disagreements and all-out battles. Never once, though, has my mother told me I've been replaced or treated me with such disdain.
I'm not alone in insisting that the repair of the relationship with your mother does not rest with you. From your recollection, her behavior towards you has been wrong for a very, very long time.
As for your response to other pregnant women in your family and for the "ruining" of family events so soon after the death of the twins, you were right in your grief and you were completely mistreated. Unfortunately, many people don't recognize the grief that comes with losing children we were merely carrying. To many, they don't count (particularly with women from your mother's generation and before).
I wish things were different between you and your mother, and if the day comes that they are, I hope the resolution comes with mutual love and respect and a healthy set of boundaries.
Thinking of you this Mother's Day...
i am lucky to (currently) have a good relationship with my mother, and i missed her terribly today. i hope that this gap between you and your mom will close over time.
What a confusing day for so many of us, with so many emotions swirling about.
Today was bearable for me, but I still feel that I'm in a bit of a limbo. On this day, I'll always be reminded of the little person who made me a mother to begin with and how I long for him to still be here. And, then today, I found myself looking forward with anticipation to the arrival of my little miracle, who I should meet in just 18 days if everything goes as planned. I'm a mom, past and future, but not present.
But, aside from my role as a mom, it's a confusing day for me, as I've never been able to celebrate it with my own mother. My mother was there for a short time in title only and then disappeared altogther. I don't think that all the decisions she made were malicious or because she didn't love me; rather, I don't think she really understood what our dynamic was supposed to be so she wasn't able to nurture our relationship the way I had hoped and expected and observed in all the other mother/child relationships around me.
Last year I discovered that my mom had passed away and even though I didn't know her, I still felt a great sense of loss at knowing she was gone and there was no way to ever develop a relationship with her.
I hope your mother will come around and realize what she is missing out on by having this akward relationship with you.
Mother's Day for me is a difficult day for many reasons, besides the obvious that I am not a mother. I am an adoptee and know that I have another mother out there somewhere. I don't know her, but I hope she will know that I care, I am not angry and resentful for her decision, and I thank her for giving me life. I don't know if I will ever have the opportunity to tell her that or not. It isn't something I acknowledge very often, but on Mother's Day, I can't stop thinking about it.
My mother is dead and my firstborn is dead. But I've got my nearly 2-year-old daughter, who made me a watercolor. I don't really know how to feel about Mother's Day.
Mother's Day kicks off what I have come to think of as "The Triumvirate" Mother's Day, Memorial Day and what would be my sons birthday on June 7th. Bam, bam, BAM. I barely have time to recover before his anniversary in September.
Luckily, I have to wonderful boys to celebrate with, but to be honest...today kind of sucks.
The end.
wow, what a tough relationship. why do some mothers shovel their own emotional baggage onto their children?
mother's day is tough for me-as it is for so many of us. it's weird, becuase i am pregnant now. but i don't feel like a mother, and i will never forget how sad this day was me. us.
I am sorry, Niobe, that you have a troubled relationship with your mother. How sad it is that so many of us, myself included, can relate.
It felt strange buying my mom a Mother's Day card...I never know which kind to get. I can't get anything sentimental b/c that's not really our relationship. I found a sarcastic one...very funny and very fitting. I wish I could get one of the cards that makes me cry when I read it. Sigh.
Perhaps one day, my [future] children will be able to do that for me.
I have this sometimes overwhelming fear that I will be a horrible mother to my daughter. I don't know why I fear this. I have a really good mother, myself, so it's not like I'll be repeating a pattern. I just so want for us to have a close relationship, I'm afraid I'll screw it up.
I'm so sorry that your mother doesn't appreciate you for the incredibly kind and gifted person we know you to be.
I'm sorry. You have hit a nail for me, Mother's Day is often very difficult for those with strained maternal relationships. Society just limited understanding of mothers that do not adore their children and vice versa.
I am in Salem, OR. I spent a lot of last week reading and feeling for how hard this Sunday would be for many of you. It wasn't until the quiet of the early morning on Sat that I realized my own grandmother would be suffering too as she has lost 2 of her 4 children in the last 2 years. I thank you for the blessing you all offer of opening up my mind to those around me. I was able to take a different approach in my wishes and got a very heartfelt "thank you, that meant a lot to me" from her.
Niobe,
Although my story is very different...the relationship I thought I had with my mom crumbled away after my son's death. What I'm left with now can be very heartbreaking at times.
~Carole
I'm missing my mommy more than words can say, while loving my two little ones and thinking of my little soul I will meet someday in heaven.
this utterly breaks my heart for you: for you as a six year old, thirteen year old, x-year old mama losing your beloved babies.
but your words echo a wisdom that no one can give you, you have come upon them through your own accords and experiences.
you are safe. you are loved by many. you are mama two two spirit-babies.
and in this space, for the brief moment i read your tender words, i can say with honestly that i love you as well.
peace, my stranger friend.
I've been thinking about your post for a few days. My mother ended her relationship with me for her own reasons four years ago, not long after I started trying to get pregnant. I've now given up on having children and am not sure whether I'll have a relationship with my mother again. It's sad and strange and not how I imagined my life, but I'm also free.
I felt really sad reading your post. I have a wonderful relationship with my Mum and just cant imagine one like yours. Big fat hugs to you.
As for Mothers Day, well 2 years ago on Mothers Day I was sitting in the hospital being told there was something wrong with Zak. I dont think Mothers Day will ever be the same for me. Even with other children down the track.
Hugs
xxx
oh. ooof. I'm sorry.
Niobe, I'm so very, very sorry. My two adult daughters are estranged (their choice) from me. Why these things happen, I don't know, but I do believe that your mother loves you and I also believe your estrangement is as painful and disturbing to her as it is to you.
Dysfunctional relationships seem to crash and burn during tragedy. My daughters' strained relationship with me reached a crescendo, ending in permanent estrangement, at the time of their brother's unexpected death in October. Mother's Day was something I dreaded, even feared. I'm thankful it's over. It's not a hearts-and-flowers day for everyone.
While personality conflicts and disorders and emotional baggage enter into estrangements, I really do think things will work out between you and your mother. Speaking as an estranged mother myself, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she misses you. I think her Mother's Day was not so great at all.
I wish you peace and love, Niobe, Any mother would be proud to have such a beautiful, sensitive person as a daughter.
I am so sad to hear you are having a mother's day so like my own. I spent my mother's day in silence at my mother's house. She flitting and ogling and cherishing her 'adopted' grand babies and me sitting by wondering if she'll ever ask them if they're tired of being fat and ugly.
Niobe,
We know one another from the Preeclampsia Foundation--well--sort of. I read your news and followed the trail to your blog. I lost my own mom (a supremely difficult woman) to cancer in '03. I think I thought that illness, particularly one that afforded us time to "resolve" things would--well--resolve things. Sadly, it really didn't but I was comforted knowing I'd done everything I could for her, regardless. In the end she was utterly dependent and my dad was in over his head.
What resonated most with me about your post is the loss of your twins=the loss of your mom. When my mom died for me it meant more or less the loss of the rest of my family (my two brothers and my dad) because for better or worse-she'd been that conduit and without it there--it disappeared. My dad, now remarried, informed me he didn't know if he could visit this summer because they are going to see "the grandchildren" (I have four children--HIS grandkids--but they are going to see her grandkids, I guess). The brothers are just a blip on the radar and even that is surly and remote. So last summer--when I remarried--my new husband's entire immediate family (mom, sister, brother and nephews) flew from Europe to our state to attend the wedding. My dad and stepmom were the only ones who came and my dad refused to walk me down the aisle--he said I was old enough to walk myself.
I realized my family was just what it was and that I would never have those "magical" moments where we suddenly look at each other (cue the Lifetime music) and say "I've MISSED you..." :) The irony is--as much a pain as my mom was--I miss her terribly. How's that for a twist?!
I laughed at your post earlier about identifying the "safe" topics. I remember trying to proactively clean my house because every time mom came she would spend the whole trip cleaning. (We're going with an OCD diagnosis...) I would regularly kill myself off cleaning for weeks before she came so that this time--she'd be free to hang with me--you know, fun stuff like shopping, going to touristy sites, talking about the kids, playing games with them, maybe, I don't know READING (she WAS a teacher) with them...and sure enough--she'd find things to clean and clean and clean. It was beyond her control. So that last visit--I just LEFT it. I even wrote a list of things "to do" for the fridge in case she ran out of things to do...Finally. I realized I couldn't change her but I could accept myself. It didn't change a thing except I didn't feel quite so insane.
ANYWAY--I ramble. Love your blog--keep on keeping on.