Motherhood...

Today I want to write about a subject that is very special to me. 

I grew up for the majority of my life with my father. I was a tomboy by nature and I loved being out on the farm. I had no trouble making friends with boys and eventually I learned how to make friends with girls, but not quite as well. In sixth grade I came into a spectacular set of friends and each of them had a really fabulous mother. In this mish-mosh of adopted family members, I slowly learned all the things that girls are suppose to do. They taught me how to braid, how to straighten my hair, how to shop. I learned how to cook, how to do puzzles, and how to pamper myself. But in this incredible web of mothers I learned so much more. I learned of a love that is so expansive that there is always space for one more. A love so sweet and magnetic that just pulls you in and holds you like a child. A love so pure and good that it was never tainted by the miles or the fights or the mistakes. I was shown all the ways that love can heal. I was taught the many languages of love. I discovered a million ways to show your love. 

I always knew that I was blessed because of the family I had. No matter what problems I had, there was somewhere to turn. For every heart ache was a set of arms offering a hug. After every fight at home there was an open bed nearby. I was raised on the love of women who never had to love me. I had mornings, nights, and holidays in the front room of different families and they never complained. I don't think I've ever had the words to say to my family of mothers. I don't think I've ever known a way to express the endless gratitude. All I know to do is to keep fighting, keep growing, and keep making waves. All I hope is that they will be proud. I wish I could find a way to tell my mothers that they will be loved and cherished a million times over because its true. I want to tell them that in everything I do, I have the strength because of them. I want to tell them that I will never forget the car rides, the family meals, the trips to the beach, or the hugs. I want to tell them that it's only because of them that I know who I am. I want them to know that because of the power of their love, I aim to love just as deeply and sweetly. I am good because of my mothers. I am me because of my mothers. I'm a fighter above all else because of my biological mother. I am in constant wonder because of Hannah's mother. I am grounded in my faith because of Autumn's mother. I am expressive and joyful because of Ellie's mother. I love simple pleasures because of Bestema. And, maybe most importantly of all, I know that one say I too will be able to pass all of this onto my children because I have seen it in Hannah's aunt Julie who is Nora's mother. 

In all my days I have only known one thing to be true. One day I want my very own child. I want all of the fear and the stress, the sickness and the pain, the beauty and the love of being a mother. I don't know when and I don't know how but I know I am meant to be a mother. When my husband returned from deployment I was very sick. My doctor advised that I remove my IUD because my body was ready for babies. We decided to try to conceive for a few months. Shortly after, we believe that I experienced a chemical pregnancy. I didn't ever get a positive pregnancy test. I had very severe symptoms and when I began to bleed, I'll save you the details, but I can tell you it wasn't a natural cycle. Months later the doctors told me I had an ovarian cyst. I was tested for PCOS more than once and tests were negative. No testing was done to see what type of cyst it was or to try and remove it. When we moved back home, I experienced another incident where I felt very pregnant. This time I was a day late on my cycle before the symptoms stopped. The way everything turned off instantly and the way I felt when the bleeding hit, I knew. This one wrecked me. I was just so torn apart that I was so bad at this. I was so mad that it had happened more than once so we took even more precautions. I was physically and emotionally exhausted after the second time and I just didn't think I could handle going through it again. I started to go through everything in my head. Maybe I could never have kids. Maybe I'm not supposed to have kids. Maybe I am going to need thousands of dollars worth of treatments to have kids. 

I knew earlier in life that miscarriages ran in my family. I was always thinking of that when we tried to conceive, but I thought I'd be luckier I guess. I thought maybe I was immune somehow. I don't know how to explain to you how painful these experiences were for me. I am young, I am healthy, I am married and I have a great job. I thought I was finally going to fill in that last puzzle piece and then it was torn from my hands. I had so much love for these babies that didn't even exist yet. I was planning, I was researching, I was begging these little clusters of cells to stick and grow and become everything I ever wanted. When my husband and I decided that kids should wait a few years, it was hard. I knew he was right. I knew we didn't make much money and that we didn't want to stay in Mobile, but it was my dream. 

When I finally found it in me to tuck away the dream of being a mother, I felt kind of lost. Suddenly I was asking myself what I wanted to do forever. My job felt like a death sentence. I suddenly saw myself being stuck at a desk, retiring, and never accomplishing anything. I threw around tons of ideas. Did I want to be in the medical field? No. Did I want to be a cop, a fireman, an EMT? No. I decided that what I really wanted to do was go. I wanted to go and see and learn. I wanted to feel free and young for a while. I guess i felt like losing the identity of mother really made me feel like I needed to find myself again. There's got to be more than me. I have to find something for me. I have to find what makes me tick, what makes me itch, what makes me happy. But when I find that thing, when I chase it down and I use it up and I am the best at it that I can be, I think I know where I'll come back to. I think that in the end, no matter what country I'm in or what is weighing down my pocket, I will always want to be a mother. I know there is no proper substitute for a life that is founded on the purest of love. I know there is no drug quite as strong or drink quite as stout as a mother's love. In a few years I'd like to move somewhere with snow and sunshine, somewhere that really feels like home, and then I want to live my dream. I think the first time I hear that sweet voice call me Momma, I will truly find my purpose.