To Be a Mom
Love is a magnetic feeling.
Kissing soft pinkish chubby cheeks, hearing light hearted baby laughter, answering a late night cry for connection, receiving a warm comforting embrace, providing nourishment, connecting with an energetic soul-filled twinkle in your baby’s eyes, balancing exhaustion with content and your heart feeling a grandiose amount of love; this is a small part of what I feel motherhood will be like.
One day, even though I have been wanting this for most of my adult years, I will be a mother. To some this may be a surprise, but to those who really know me, know this is a firm and honest desire. I will be someone’s mom. I have my heart set on receiving this incredible gift.
I’m not a mom (I’m not pregnant *yet* either) and sometimes that makes me feel left out, not a part of the "mommy club", which most of my friends and women my age belong. I haven't earned the "mommy rite of passage" and I truly haven't, it's not a "club" to which I belong. I feel different, sometimes lost and alone.
Alone like my first day at a new school in eighth grade when many of the girls chose to make up rumors about me rather than reach out to be my friend. I wasn't part of the club, that sacred teenage club, the friendship and popular group. I didn't fit in. I sometimes always still feel like the new girl in a way.
I feel rejected in a sense, not part of a certain special “in the know” society, especially at my age. People tell me to not worry about my age, but those same people already have children, so they don’t and can’t truly understand this, similar to the fact that I don’t understand what it truly feels like to be a mom.
Realistically, I have no idea when the gift of motherhood will be presented to me. I’m 36, in a few weeks I’ll be 37. (I feel like 37 going on 26, so that's a huge win.) I’m single (not married), yet in a love-filled committed relationship. However, with there being no real concrete talk about future family plans (there's a little chatter here and there), I wait. I wait while being impatiently patient longing for something that I’m not quite sure is possible.
What I do know is that when God puts something in your heart, you have to keep the faith that it will happen.
I have faith it will.
Personally, I have had hormone and adrenal issues, so, as any woman, especially women of my age, I’m naturally curious if I'll receive this divine present; motherhood. The pleasure of holding my own sweet-smelling soft and naturally beautiful child in my arms after a couple excruciating, painful and long laborious hours bringing her or him (or twins) into the world. I will be enthusiastic, yet nervous to meet them.
Envy isn't the right word, but I feel envious of my friends that are moms of one, two, three, four or five (plus) babies. Not a negative envy, not jealousy, but more so a personal feeling of awareness of how I truly want what they have. They've experienced miracles - wonderful babies, little angels they have brought to life. Tiny, yet ambitious, souls to create their own personal family.
I watch from afar as they share the elegance of childbirth, starting and raising a family, while openly sharing the highlights and joys amongst the struggles. I’m aware there will be ups and downs in the journey of motherhood, I know my life will change in many ways; I'm ready for this.
While there are some things I love and embrace about the unknown, there are some things that build up inside of me and cause me to be impatient, longing, desperate, and sad because I know inside of me the timing of bearing my own child is one thing that I can not control and yet from the most hidden and darkest part of my being, this heavy desire has been placed in my heart. I know there are angels, special kindred souls out there that will chose to have me as their mom, their mother, their guide and their protector.
Life is a journey filled with beautiful changes and I know that being a mom and bringing children into this world will bring a lot of predictably unpredictable shifts to my life. Trust me, I’ve been told; I’m being prepared by those that love me. To me, that’s part of the journey, part of the joy, and to be expected. I think the gift of giving another human life is a beautiful life shift, one I'm ready to embrace with a wide open heart and thousands of amorous kisses.
At the same time, I know that there can be struggles with having children, both before having children and after they're here on this earth. This does scare me, but I’m not owning that feeling. There's always a chance I can’t have my own children, a chance that I could have a miscarriage, or try many times and not be able to carry my own child. I also know that you don’t have to carry a child within you to be an amazing love-filled mother.
I understand this, even though I haven’t experienced it. I know many amazing, caring and love-filled women who have experienced such pain both in silence and in sharing this part of their journey. My heart always goes out to them, these strong radiant women, as I would hope if that happens to me I would also be supported in a love filled way.
Here I wait, with an open heart, longing for a little baby or babies to grow inside of my body, my love-filled and healthy body. Inside of the body in which I've been consciously preparing for them when they're ready, nourishing my body so I can in turn nourish theirs.
When their souls arrive, I will love them; I will love them fiercely. I’ve been practicing love all of my life and while I am not perfect at it, I know they will receive a love stronger than I have ever felt.
Amorous laughter, tears, strength, struggles, and a feeling that I can’t yet explain in words because I haven’t been blessed to experience the joy of being pregnant, childbirth, creating a family and motherhood.
My future little ambitious souls, you will be loved.
There will be so much space for joy in your lives and I can’t wait to share my life and uncontainable love with you.
Baby picture on top is of me, Nicole Marie, in case you were wondering.
Photo credit: My momma