I never wanted to become a mom, nor a wife for that matter. I thought I was going to end up being that old scary woman who lived down the street in the run down house with about 20 cats. And I was ok with that.
Well I am old now and my house is pretty run down. I don’t have any cats though. There are too many coyotes here who love to munch on cats and I think it is cruel to keep cats indoors only. That is just me. Instead my son and I live together in this house that is quickly getting run down as the years pass and no money to pay for the maintenance.
During my free spirited single days, I avoided getting pregnant like the plague. I remember when friends would have babies and I had to go to the socially mandatory baby showers and “viewings”. I would watch all the women gather round the new baby or the pregnant mom and get all clucky. I would just sit in the background and smile silently. I felt absolutely vacant inside. I did not get it.
When I got pregnant with my son, I was terrified. I thought that I had nothing to offer a child, let alone provide for it. I also was terrified that I would become the same mother as my mother was to me.
In high school, I had been traumatized by something my sociology teacher said. After all of these years, I still can remember him saying that we end up pretty much parenting the same way our parents did. I carried that information with me until I got pregnant. It is amazing how much a piece of such insignificant information can have so much impact on some one’s life, but it did. I was horrified that I would verbally beat my child down the same way that it happened to me.
With the option of easily disposing of this “problem”, I would be a liar to say that I did not consider it. I was that scared and it would have been such an easy and quick solution to avoid that unknown road ahead.
I kept asking myself as to why I was so terrified? Women have been doing this since the beginning of time. And why would I think that I am any less than all of those that went before me? Some women take pregnancy so casually and yet I was so serious and so scared.
There was no reason for my fears. I had a new husband, (he seemed like he liked children at least other people’s children) and a new home. I had finally gotten my B.A. (way too many years of intermittent school). Most of all, my biological clock was about to stop ticking, I was 41 years old.
If I could have postponed another 10 or 20 years, I may have. But probably not, and that is because I had already made that choice before. I still silently mourn that. It is an ache in me that has never gone away. Even now I am too ashamed to admit to the choice that I made (except for blogging here anonymously). Nobody ever warns you about it when you make that “right to choose”.
After giving birth to my son, I had the biggest epiphany of my entire life. So much love, that I never knew I had in me, gushed forth. I realized that I had discovered something so profound in my life that not even once had I considered that it ever existed. I finally got it. My life had taken on a whole new meaning. It was as though I had found the “missing link” in my life.
I found something that I did not even know I was looking for.
Those little arms reaching out to me completely changed how I saw life. I may have not felt worthy of this new found love, but I knew then, I would fight to my death to protect my child who had already given me so much.
I still feel the same.