I've debated for awhile now on whether or not I wanted to write this post. Then, this past week it has been at the front of my brain, or at least very close to it. This is a topic that is very close to my heart. One that is very difficult to write about. So here goes.
I haven't always had a strong desire to be a mother. When I was a little girl, I had my dolls that I would mother, but as I grew older, I started to focus more on sports, school, work, and not necessarily in that order. I had a plan as a teenager that I would get married by the ripe old age of 21 and perhaps start a family within a few years after that.
Well, when I reached 21, I wasn't ready for marriage. Heck, I hadn't seriously dated anyone. Ever. So I kept on at school and work. When I was 23, I met Earl at a church activity. We had fun, hung out, and started dating. About 1.5 years later we were married. I was 25, he was 29. We both agreed to not have children in the first year of marriage-we wanted to spend that time adjusting to life together. Well, about 6 months into our marriage, I started to want to start a family. It wasn't overwhelming, just a passing thought of how fun it would be to have a baby. The responsibilities that come with a baby didn't cross my mind.
Fast forward to our 2nd anniversary. I had been religiously on birth control for 2 years. I could not stand the side effects I faced every month from those little bitty pills. I was guaranteed a migraine and terrible PMS mood swings. It's ironic because the brand I was on was allegedly known for improving PMS symptoms. Guess I'm the exception. So I stopped taking the pills. I told Earl, he was a little freaked out. But in my mind, I was selfish and validated my choice by telling myself that it takes 2 people to make a baby, the responsibility to prevent that shouldn't fall solely on my shoulders.
So we played Russian Roulette so to speak. I knew the basics of reproduction (thank you public schools) and the terms and anatomy and vocabulary. But I paid very little attention to my own body. I wasn't too worried about becoming pregnant.I figured that it would happen if it was meant to happen. So we weren't actively trying each month to get pregnant, we just weren't preventing it.
As the calendar pages turned, I started to realize how much I wanted a child. Looking back, I am able to recognize the want came from seeing my friends have child after child. I wanted to be like them! I wanted to fit in! I fell for the old, "If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?" and wanted a child because my friends were having babies. As the days turned to months which inevitably turned to years, I became jealous. Bitter. Angry. I wanted what they had. Desperately.
Every time a friend announced she was pregnant, I cried. Bitter tears, self pity overcame me and I sobbed. I couldn't understand why my wish, my dream, my righteous desire was going unfulfilled. At one point I recall sitting in church when the thought came to me "Not yet." I knew that was the answer to my prayers. It wasn't the answer that I wanted. But it was an answer.
So I was content for awhile. But the feelings kept creeping back. While I was truly happy for my friends who were getting pregnant so easily, I still cried with every announcement. I began to have a difficult time at church. It seemed like every lesson women would comment about how great it is to have children. Then another would chime in that she wished she could have just 5 minutes of alone time, that her kids never left her alone. I would sit with a stormy look on my face and judge these women. I was angry at them. They had children, for crying out loud! I would give anything to have those little ones!
I hated going to church on Mother's Day. It was awful. While I deeply love an appreciate my own mother, I was filled with self pity because I had not earned the title of Mother. I hated to be reminded of what I wasn't. I felt like a fraud, a sham, undeserving of the flowers and chocolate that were handed out to every woman over 18. I was not a person to be honored.
Mother's Day 2013 was the best Mother's Day because I was able to surprise my own mom. I flew in to California for a few days of work at my previous job and I showed up at church that Sunday. She had no idea I was coming. It was wonderful because all the pressure was off me that day.
But the rest of 2013 was full of self inflicted pressure.
Each month that went by I became more and more despondent. It had now been almost 3 years since I stopped taking the pill. I had read up on infertility. So much so that it became an obsession for me. It wasn't healthy, but what could I do? I unfortunately did not have infertility treatments covered through my insurance. So I couldn't be diagnosed. I had no idea what was causing us to not get pregnant. Earl thought it was him, I swore it was me. But we couldn't afford the testing and treatments. So I sat and wondered. I analyzed everything.
Slowly, as each month went by, my hope dwindled. It kept getting chipped away, sometimes little bits, sometimes huge chunks.
We had a women's activity at church in November 2013. It was on finding joy in your current season of life. As we sat in a circle, each woman sharing what brought her joy, there was a recurring theme: children. At least 3/4 of the women present voiced how their kids and grand kids brought them the most joy. I sat there, surrounded by women, I felt utterly alone. I had nothing in common with these women. I didn't have kids and it was starting to look like I never would. So many times I almost got up and left. I was angry and on the verge of tears. I couldn't take it. I hated hearing about how great it was to be a mother.
And then it was my turn.
Have you ever seen the movie "Mean Girls"? There is a phrase that is used, "word vomit". Basically you start speaking and aren't able to control what comes out of your mouth. It doesn't matter if you've thought it out ahead of time, you have 0 control once your mouth is open.
That's what happened to me.
Before I even knew it, I was telling these women that I wasn't in the same season of life as them. I didn't have kids and I didn't think I was going to. And to top it off, I was blubbering the whole was through. So maybe they couldn't understand me at all. Regardless, I was crying uncontrollably and I was so embarrassed. I went home, feeling completely defeated. I hadn't found joy. I had found more sorrow, self pity, and even more anger. I was afraid to go to church after that embarrassing display. But I did. I still kept to myself, but I went.
Just a few short weeks later was Thanksgiving. I was so screwed up in my head that I could not focus on what I had and what I was thankful for. I only thought about what I didn't have. That was my ultimate low point. I was depressed. I finally admitted to being depressed. I didn't want to be with family. I was tired of life. I wanted to stay in bed all day. I didn't want to face the world.
I physically felt drained. Emotionally, I had nothing to give. I felt like a shell of a person. I wasn't even close to being complete. As I was dealing with emotions that I had long put-off, I accepted the fact that I was not meant to be a mother in this life. The "not yet" answer I had received years previous I began to interpret as not having children. I accepted this. I had gone through the stages of anger, denial, and now acceptance. I can't say that I bounced right back. But I resigned myself to being a wife, not a wife and mother. I would be good about keeping a clean house. I would work 40 hours a week. But I wouldn't be a mother. I started to look into finding a stable to hang out at. Something, anything, to keep me busy.
I never found a barn. Instead I found 2 pink lines.
So while I am now a mother of an unborn babe, I still appreciate the struggle women of all ages, races, nationalities, religions go through when they don't have a child to make a card for them. I know what it's like to be on the other side. I know the feelings of desperation, fear, anger, bitterness, jealousy that come to a childless mother on this day. Am I suddenly more appreciative of this day that is set aside to honor mothers? Not necessarily. I think I am more aware of the women who don't bear the title of Mother and more compassionate toward them. I may not know their reason for not having children, it's not my place to know. But this is a day to celebrate womanhood. To honor the women who made an impact on my life whether they are biologically connected to me or not.
I won't say patronizing things to inspire false hope. I will mourn with those who mourn. Comfort those who stand in need of comfort. Because I was there. I was one of them. I'll always be part of the infertility group because that was my life for 3 years.
And now I'm starting a new stage of life. One that I prayed and hoped for. One that scares the living daylight out of me. 3 more months and my life begins.
