Mother’s Day- Part 1
I guess you could say this is my first official/unofficial mother’s day. What did my family do? They let me sleep! Let me tell you how glorious that is! Normally my little ones will come in around 6am on the weekends. Today has been a peaceful day. As I write this now, I hear the girls up the street with the neighbor kids playing, my husband washing his truck, and I am laying outside in a lawn chairs as I listen to the birds chirping and feel the summer bugs crawling in our backyard. What a beautiful, sunny day!
As I sit out here, I reminisce on previous mother’s days I have had. Two years ago, even three years ago, it wasn’t like this. Either I would sleep in or be too depressed to go anywhere. I didn’t want to be out and have others tell me happy mother’s day, knowing I wasn’t a mother. The first year I had the girls, we were stood up on Mother’s Day at the local McDonalds. I can’t even recall what excuse it was their mother came up with on why she could not come at the last minute. After that, I made a promise to myself to never tell the girls when, where, or if their parents would come visit. I know having a relationship with biological parents is important in a child’s life so they do not feel abandoned. But, how can you protect the child’s emotionally and psychologically, when the parent chooses not to come? Another soap box on another day. But, this year the oldest told me Happy Mother’s Day and asked where I’d like to go eat since it was my day. She gave me a handmade body scrub her class made at school. She was super excited about it! The youngest gave me a hand print with a cute poem, about handprints, that would make a grown man cry! I received countless text from my family and coworkers this morning that really helped me to get out of bed and enjoy my day. I may not be a mom biologically, or be called “mom”, but today, it was a great day to be celebrated and enjoyed.
The girls have never really called me mom. They mainly call me by my first name. Sometimes they call me “mo-mo” or just “Mo”. I tell them, you can call me whatever you like, just as long as they are not bad words or potty words. They agreed. As I sit basking in the 80 degree hot sun, I recall a few stories that stick out that will tug the heart strings relating to being a mother. We had lived in this house for about a year when the girls came to live with us. I remember one day, when talking to our neighbor, I introduced the girls as my nieces. The oldest looked at me with a stern look and said do not say that I’m your niece. I bent down to her level and said, “well, what would you like for me to call you?” She said “your daughter.” After seeing how hurt and confused she looked, I tried my best just to be as normal as I could, and introduce her by her first name.
One day, while I was in the bathroom getting ready, my oldest came up to me, and laid her head against my stomach. She wrapped her hands around my waste, gave me a gentle hug. She placed her ear against my belly as if she was listening for something. I had explained to her that I could not have a baby grow inside my belly. She asked if that made me sad. I looked at her and said no, that now I had her and her younger sister, and I did not have a reason to be sad anymore. She smiled, but then she looked up at me with big crocodile tears and said, I wish I came from your belly. I told her that even though she did not come from my belly, she came from my heart and I loved her just the same.
There have been good times and sad and angry ones. I have been yelled at with the statement “you’re not my mommy” I’ve been told, “I love you, but I love my real mommy more.” There have been times I have gone to my bathroom, locked myself in, and just sat in the floor crying. I was trying to catch my breath, and questioning if I really wanted to do this, if I was making the right choice bringing the girls into our home, into our lives. I would pray to God, yell at God how hard it was. How emotional it was. But then I remembered why I was doing this. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about what I wanted or the way I wanted to become a parent. It was about what God wanted. It was about those girls. I was placed in these girls lives to take care of them, nurture them, love them. To give them a steady, structured environment away from the drugs and bouncing around from place to place. I was home for them. I may not ever be called mom, at least not for now. And I will never hide from the girls who their birth parents are. But I will love them as if they did come from my womb. Being infertile and placing a child into your life either through foster care or adoption is not a quick fix. It’s not a fix so that I become a mother. I still have the hurt and still wonder what I am missing out on when it comes to being a biological mother.
There are many women in life. As I said in a previous blog, we were meant hear on earth to bear children. But, so many women are unable to or led to. To those women who do not want to be a mom, I commend you. There are other means in life and other journeys God has in store for you in life.
To the ones who do want children and can’t, do I feel sorry for you? No. Yes, I know that is a bold statement. Same as that, I do not want others to feel sorry for me. Will I pray for you? Yes. Do not be bitter for bitterness does not help the faint of heart. It hurts. Missing a period, but not getting excited about it because you know the test will be negative. To write down all the baby names you will never use; to never feel the butterfly or kicking inside you. And to do what the one thing is women are supposed to do on this earth. The one thing a man can never do, birth a child. Carry a child in your womb. That’s hard. That’s some heavy.
I know God has wanted me to share my story with others. Do I still have bad and hard days? Yeah, I do. But with God, he makes them easier. If it wasn’t for my faith in God to teach me to find the Joy in my heart, to have a peace that passes all understanding, and to make my wants and the deepest depths of my heart his wants, I wouldn’t be here now telling you about my journey.
If not for my faith, I would be lost. If not for my family, I would be alone. My faith gives me will to live as does my family. Forever in my heart, forever in my home.
