Mothered

This Mother’s Day finds me at a bit of an emotional crossroads. Usually, I call my mom, send her as many gifts as my pockets allow, and then I call my sister, who is the mother of my niece and nephew, who hold two huge parts of my heart. I also think of my friends with children, many of whom I’ve had the delight of watching them grow and learn and become the kind and spirited people that their parents hope that they would be. I love children, adore them. I’m always so excited to get to hold a baby (especially if they are wearing baby jeans!). But, underneath all that, I always wondered what it meant to be someone who loves the children around them, but never quite got to the point where I was able to have my own.

I always wanted at least five. I was influenced at an early age by the story of Josephine Baker’s “Rainbow Tribe” and thought, of course I should adopt children. I always saw myself with a loud, chaotic, but overflowing with love household. I saw myself with a partner, equally in love with our family, and eager to see it thrive. But it never happened. I wasn’t sad, I focused my love on the kids that were in my life, which extended to the college students I supported in my higher education career. Before that, I taught preschool, and though those kids have to be grownups now, I still think about the little girl who couldn’t say my name, but would tell me, “Love you, Ra-Ra!” as I helped her wash her hands. I don’t think that not having children was painful for me, I just always thought, “One Day”. One day, I’d meet the person I wanted to share life and a family with. One Day didn’t arrive, and still I thought, “When it’s right”. Though I would have loved to be a mother, I didn’t want to have kids for the sake of having kids, especially at the risk of having them with the wrong person.

Over the years, the “When it’s right” turned into, “did I miss it?”. Was there a point where I was supposed to turn right instead of left? Did I not try hard enough to meet someone in college with everyone else? I prepared and achieved my dream career, so surely if this is meant to happen, it will happen, right? But it didn’t, and I was disappointed, and that disappointment turned to pain. Pain told me that if I weren’t so awkward in college, so focused on achieving things, so chronically in the wrong place at the even worse time, it would’ve been a reality by now. And then, the moment came, when that pain became acceptance. I accepted that motherhood wasn’t in the cards for me, but being an Auntie was. Tracee Ellis Ross once said that when it came to children, the “window of desire” had passed. She thought it would happen, she mourned that it didn’t, and then she resolved to love the life that she had instead of the potential of another. That rocked my world!

So that’s where I find myself, actively grieving the potential in order to lovingly set it (and myself) free. While I didn’t achieve motherhood, I achieved things that bring my life  meaning and joy. I get to go where I want, focus on what makes my life full, while still getting to watch my niece and nephew grow up and learn about the world around them. I look forward to being an extra layer of support when life gets scary and uncertain to help them get back on track again. I love my friends’ children like they’re my own, and I feel fulfilled to be there for them as well. T

For the past few Mother’s Days, especially now that I am in my 40s, there’s that little tug, that little nagging voice making sure I am aware of what I didn’t achieve. Perimenopause and PCOS have come knocking with the announcement that even if I still wanted to have a child, it’s probably not going to physically happen. Nothing reminds you of an ending of a dream like your body literally closing up shop. I remind myself that although my heart feels a deficit,  I haven’t lost anything by not having or adopting children, if anything I gained the privilege of loving more kids than I ever imagined. So I acknowledge that hurt, let myself mourn, and then after a few days, I set it free again, and give a smile and a wave to a cute little baby wearing jeans and a cardigan.