Mumbling Mommy

 

I never wanted to be a mama because I knew that came with the kids!  I remember being in college and having a conversation with our dorm janitor who looks like a member of ZZ Top and him saying something about getting married and having kids and I said “Oh No!   I want to do what I want when I want!”  He said “Well that’s how you GET kids!”  I laughed but knew that I was NOT interested.

I’m pretty sure I’m NOT getting the “Mother of the Year” award

Some of you wanted to be mamas out of the gate.  You may have been babysitting when you were big enough to sit up and have another baby in your lap. On the other hand, some of you didn’t want any kids either and now they are in high school and you still cannot figure out how it happened.  What I can tell you is that every mama is in a constant learning process and we are all in it together.  We all make LOTS of mistakes and I’m pretty sure I am NOT
getting the “Mother of the Year” Award this year.  Or next.  Half the time I have no idea what I am doing and the other half I spend reading parenting books while my sweet child falls off of things or eats the dog’s food.  And you probably are not getting that Mother of the Year Award either so don’t get all smug!

It wasn’t until my late thirties that I met a man that I knew I truly should not let get away.  John was everything I wanted and needed in a mate.  Except… John wanted kids!  YIKES!  We were dating and he explained that if this got more serious and led to marriage he knew I didn’t want kids, but would I consider them?  I agreed to consider having one…and then said he could barter for a second.  We got married and I felt at home in my life for the first time.  Being loved by John let me be weak, let me be sweet.  His love for me opened my heart and gave my life a peace I never experienced before.  With such a happy marriage little did I know I would be the one who’s clock would start ticking and I would start chasing him around the house trying to get pregnant a bit earlier than our agreed upon one year mark!

As a control freak I started charting my temperatures and doing anything else to increase our odds of getting pregnant.    I was ready and attacking family planning like a professional goal instead of the miracle it is.  We got pregnant the second month trying and were thrilled.  When we finally got to the 12 week check up and went in to hear the heartbeat we found out we had miscarried at 8 weeks.  My body didn’t seem to know, my belly had started to pooch out, I didn’t have any signals anything was wrong. We were devastated.

Any of you who have experienced this kind of loss knows some of what I mean…but if you haven’t it can be an awkward topic and that is OK.  I have always been an upbeat and positive girl, so the depression, the helpless crying even weeks afterwards really took me by surprise.  I am grateful I was able to learn some things through this sad time.  Most importantly, I learned that I did want to be a Mama…and that the best thing I did for all three of my babies-the first we lost, Portia and now our newest Libby, is give them right back to God.  Life is on loan to us in any form, our own or our spouse, friends, children.   I love the quote “Becoming a mother is deciding to forever have your heart walking around outside of your body.” And have learned firsthand it is true.
The fear of making it through the first trimester the next time we got pregnant was immediately replaced by the fear something would be wrong with our baby…or happen to her later. I realized that in becoming a parent not only can you develop this ferocious love for another human being, but you also have the deepest fear and vulnerability imaginable.  I don’t know how parents can stay sane without a strong faith.  That (and lots of chocolate!) kept me going through the next pregnancy and this one too.

We had Portia and two years later Libby.  I don’t have to tell you what holding your child, adopted, delivered or otherwise does to you.  What it does to your soul…to your toes.  Before becoming a Mama I was so bored and disgusted with parenting conversations.  Didn’t these people have anything else to think or talk about?   I laugh at myself, at my pre-mamahood selfishness on a regular basis now.  I openly mock myself at how fascinated I have become with Portia’s most mundane daily details.  I could bore anyone to death with my cloth diapering evangelism, my breastfeeding fervor and my theories about attachment parenting and baby wearing.  Portia and Libby add more joy to every day of my life than I could have imagined.

It seems every day I have a whole new batch of worries, wonders and yes, reluctance.  But I know it will all work out.  Some days will be good, some will not be my favorite. The Big Joke on the old Me is that parenting is way more fun than not parenting.  It’s more everything, isn’t it?  These little lives have opened my heart and mind in so many ways I could almost be embarrassed at how I started out looking parenthood.  Almost.  The truth is I’m grateful to have learned the hard lessons because they make every day sweeter, every piece of knowledge deeper and the love for my family larger than my love for myself.

 

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Category: Moms

Tags: daughters