Six years ago Friday I became a mother. It wasn’t the way I had planned on it. I didn’t get to have a gender reveal party. I didn’t get to wear cute Liz Lange dresses. I didn’t feel flutter and kicks. I never got to plan a nursery. I never felt a baby’s heartbeat from the inside. I didn’t get to complain about pregnancy. I missed out on all of what makes a traditional motherhood experience.
I so related to Hannah in the Book of Samuel. I too prayed, but my womb remained closed. I too, have a loving and supportive husband
to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb. 6 Because the Lord had closed Hannah’s womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. 7 This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat. 8 Her husband Elkanah would say to her, “Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?”
1 Samuel 1:5-8
But he could never understand the pain, how defective you feel when you are struggling with infertility. It undermined my self esteem for a very long time. I am sure I have stuffed my feelings with food, because its easier to numb the pain. I remember after my hysterectomy-my final farewell to ever having a child of my own, where I could wonder if they look like me or him-I lost a lot of weight. And I got scared, because how dare I look good because I am less a woman. I remember another PTO mom saying within earshot that how dare I be president because I wasn’t a “real mom”. I remember sobbing like I did as a teenager, when my crush liked someone else.
I wish I could say that motherhood instantly filled that hole in my soul. It didn’t, and it has taken a long time to realize that this was God’s plan for my life. If I wasn’t infertile, we never would be Little Man’s parents. He is exactly the right child for us, and it has been an amazing ride over the last six years. I have had my ups and downs. There have been many, many epic parenting fails over the years. I have yelled more than I thought was possible. I have cried many tears.
But I have also experienced incredible joy. I have the beaming pride when my son accomplishes something new. It is always amazing to see how much he’s grown and changed over the last six years. I love how we are still super close (he is such a momma’s boy, and I am just fine with that!) despite growing up. I would go to the ends of the earth for him, take a bullet for him and whatever else it takes to keep his safe, secure and ok. I pray every night for him to grow up happy, healthy, smart, and well adjusted. I love him beyond words.
Being a mother has changed me on so many levels. I am more sensitive now, and have been know to break out in tears when something sappy happens. I stress over different things now, and I struggle with others. I won’t ever get it perfect, but I hope that my son will look back on his childhood and know he had two parents that really loved him more than anything else. That’s the best gift ever.
