One More

This post came to me via email (before the deadline) and the author wishes to remain unnamed, as this is something that she holds very close to her heart. I asked her if I could publish it without her name because I know that her pain and anguish is something that many other women can relate to--and others, upon reading it, may not take their own fertility for granted.

My epiphany about motherhood came many long years before I ever had the chance to be a mother. I always assumed that my life as an adult would look something like my mother's. I would own a red and yellow striped superwagon to fit in all of my 12 kids. I'd do market runs at 5:30 AM and stay up all night to help with California mission reports and life would be crazy and chaotic and happy and good. But after trying for quite a while to get pregnant, my vision started to blur. Especially after my frightening miscarriage and accompanying complications. I still wanted exactly what I'd always wanted, without any adjustments, but as the years ticked by, I kept knocking off one child-one by one- on my dream list. I was getting older, and I was running out of time to have 12. After about five years, with age 30 looming, I finally had to face the reality that it was possible that we could be childless. Childless. I didn't know what to wish for if I couldn't have children. All of my adult dreams were based on having a family. All that was left with a void. I was angry and frustrated and I felt myself shutting myself down emotionally to cope with the devastating possibility.

Still, I harbored a bit of hope that maybe it might still come to pass. So we waited and prayed and went to the doctor. A lot. And while I was waiting, and praying, and going to the doctor, I was thinking about what kind of mother that I wanted to be. I was thinking about what I wanted to give to my children, those children that were either not going to show up, or were going to show up very late in diminished numbers. So when our first baby came, so pink and pretty and perfect, I knew what I had to be. And it didn't feel like a sacrifice-it felt like a dream come true, a privilege, a saving miracle. When a second child came, it was like a wrapped gift that I could carry around with me always. I wasn't planning or expecting it, so it was all the better. I'm not a perfect mom. I'm cranky and crabby and demanding, at least once every day. But I really love my children. And even though I don't have 12 or a superwagon, I still have a crazy and chaotic and happy and good life. And I still have to make 5:30 market runs and stay up all night to help with reports. And the void is gone, completely filled in by those two sweet little spirits that I'm privileged to call mine. I don't even want 12 anymore; I'm too busy being happy being me. Mother of two.

Sweet Affirmation

This is posted by a guest, Robin, who wanted to participate in the writing contest and does not have a blog. Thank you, Robin, for joining in the fun anyway, especially since you have so much wisdom to share!

Sweet Affirmation

I started motherhood early, and it was planned that way. I had always wanted to be a mom, I married my sweetheart at the tender age of 18 (and this month it will be our 35th anniversary.) Two weeks later I was pregnant and on the road to motherhood. I have never regretted starting so early, and have raised four nearly perfect daughters.

Since it was my career being their mom, I only took on the smallest of jobs here and there - working a few hours a week at the school as an aide, or the more lasting job of daycare in our home, which evolved into my nannying for a family - a wonderful job that spanned a decade and took place in both Massachusetts AND Arizona, where both our families resided.

So I was always the mom sitting in the stands for their games, and driving them to rehersals. We decided as parents we would always attend their concerts, their games and whatever else they were involved in. And we often had a carfull of girls when their friends' parents couldn't drive them.

And like most mothers, I was also the one who stayed up late helping with reports, making the dioramas, and proofreading book reports (and even skimming through chapter after chapter late on a Sunday night for a girl who put it off too long and was on a deadline.) My husband thought it was foolish of me to do so, that I was spoiling them somehow; "They need to learn a lesson here, face some consequences for their lack of action!" I didn't see it that way, I've always thought life was tough enough and school was the hardest part of it. Teachers would give them unreasonable tasks, saving many projects and reports to the end of the semester, and the girls were often overwhelmed by too many expectations.

But of course, like any mom, I'd find myself at the end of MY rope sometimes, running hither and yon trying to help or accomodate one of my children. Service and busy times don't come during our leisure, they usually interrupt our most hectic days.

It was on one such evening I was given a wonderful affirmation from my Heavenly Father concerning being a mom. My third daughter was in her high school play. (Three of our four girls were involved in drama and all the school plays, and I even was their photographer for many of the plays, and we attended many rehersals together.) The high school was performing The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and she was the Ice Queen.

This being dress rehersal, all the cast were at the school from the late afternoon on, and they were ordering pizza for dinner. She didn't like pizza much, and had asked if I would bring her dinner. The school wasn't too far from our house, but it was a busy day and I had to be over at Church that night for a meeting, so wedging in a dinner run to the school made for a very tight schedule. Still, as her mom, I wanted to help her out; I reluctantly made a plate and jumped into the car and hurried to the school.

As I drove, I asked out loud, "Is this really worth it? Does all this matter??" A sweet Spirit hit me almost immediately: "YES! It does matter. All the mommy things ARE important, what you are doing, all the help you give them, it is of value. What you are doing is really worth the time you are spending doing it."

It was a clear answer and I could barely see the road for the tears that came with that sweet assurance from my Heavenly Father. I knew He knew what I was doing and He valued it. I knew that the extra care I took for them, bailing them out of their homework predicaments, staying up late to help with reports, sewing costumes and prom dresses, helping out at school - all of it was indeed an important part of being a mom and He appreciated me for it.

I needed to hear that, I needed that pat on the back. The world values less and less the mom who stays home with her children. Our economy makes it harder and harder for a mother to be home instead of out working. But I'm so glad I chose to make it my career to raise my daughters, and feel immensely blessed that I could do so. I'm grateful that we were financially in a place that, even though we sacrificed many luxuries to make it work, I could be exactly what I wanted to be, a stay-at-home mom.