Accepting Mamahood

I think I've been talking a lot about this lately. I don't remember if I've been blogging about it as much as I've been thinking, thinking, thinking about it but acceptance is what this post is all about.

During my retreat I finally came to the realization that God (or however you feel comfortable taking it) has indeed 'called' me to be a mother.

How is this different than me choosing to be a mother?

Well, as humans we all have the opportunity to have children (whether biologically, adoptively, or spiritually). You do not need to physically give birth, go through lawyers and paperwork, or be given permission by someone to take on the responsibility of helping someone grow as a human being. At any given time you can develop a bond with another person and take on a parenting role which provides the necessities of life.

As I've mentioned before I've always felt the desire to be a mother. No doubt much of it came from the natural womanly instinct to do so. I think that many of us come pre-programmed to naturally want this, it is pretty much all over our bodies.

However somewhere along the road (I've mentioned how) this changed for me and the fear of child rearing overcame any sense I had to step into the realm of procreation.

The fact that I am not a fairytale thinker makes the image of having children even less appealing.

I once loved the idea of becoming a mommy because it meant someone (in the ideal situation) would love me, someone would need me, I would get to stay home and be all Martha Stewarty (though after her stint in prison doesn't sound all that positive), ultimately I would get make and be someone's world. For some reason this idea appealed to me (in this moment I can't for the life of me figure out why).

Once reality hit I woke up and saw what motherhood was really like and the pendulum swung in the opposite direction.

Then when I thought of mother hood I thought of all of the same things that I mentioned earlier but in a different light. Someone would love me - now meaning I could hurt them when I screwed up or was absent. Someone would need me - therefore being absent wasn't really an option (at least not if you wanted to be a good parent). I would get to stay home all day - like Martha Stewart, be imprisoned and never get to leave.

Suddenly my perspective changed. All the things I once saw as the reasons to become a mother quickly became my reasons NOT to become a mother. Thus putting me in a rather difficult position. To make a choice.

I have had several conversations with people (predominantly mothers) about this topic and have not had one of them give me a straight answer.

I've heard 'You'll know when you know' (Great, thanks I'll keep waiting then for the lightning bolt and pray it doesn't hit when I'm 75). I've also heard 'Some people are meant to have kids and some aren't' (Ok so it that a hint?). Then there's been the 'You're never ready to have kids, just do it!' (Alright, so I shouldn't finish college first?). And then there's 'If you aren't positive DON'T do it because once they are here they are here' (so I'm off the hook then?). And I can't leave out the 'You're only 30 don't worry about it now!' (Yeah I get that but I also know first hand that once I'm 35 things change a lot in regards to pregnancy and adoption itself does not happen overnight).

None of these responses ever made me feel closer to knowing what to do. I mean Wally and I did give the natural thing a chance for a little while so it's not like we had been completely closed to the idea but now that we feel that the ball is entirely in our court knowing what to do is more difficult. Do you go ahead and adopt? Do you take this thing as a sign that you are 'off the hook' for the parent thing and breathe a huge sigh of relief? Or do you forge ahead because society expects every household with a thirty something couple to have two kids and a couple of pets?

No answers were coming to me.

A couple of months ago when I was maxed out with stress I e-mailed a friend of mine about my stress dilemma compounded with Wally showing the beginnings of wanting a family. Suddenly the tables were turning and Wally was the one ready for kids and I was finally preparing myself for a life of 'freedom' from the task. I asked my friend what was wrong with me and that I felt like I was going crazy.

I remember not feeling very appeased by his response, instead I felt the responsibility to open myself up to the idea of kids. I was not impressed. I was stressed out and then being asked to consider torturing myself with MORE possible stress.

I will admit I felt even more conflicted after that over the kid thing but another suggestion he had was to get away and relax. After ignoring his advice on reconsidering the parent thing (instead I just let it be), I did decide he could be onto something with the relaxing thing.

After my post on having the 'Sads' and again hearing from others that a get away would be wise, I made a commitment to do so and I did.

By that point I had to let the kid thing go. Wally wasn't pressing at all and I just wasn't getting any clarity about it and we weren't in a rush. Also, after I met with Sasha and heard her honest take on motherhood and life as a parent I definitely felt that the decision wasn't getting any easier (By the way I love that Sasha is as honest about mommydom as I am about marriage - we're like the two people you need to talk to before making those decisions, just an FYI).

Anyways, I finally took time off and went away by myself to relax and get renewed. I finally admit another goal I have and feel as though my retreat may ignite some insight into it. And what do I get? A reminder about the kid thing. In fact, even more than a reminder, confirmation. I am indeed to be a mother.

Usually when people find out they can't have kids (and again I can't say Wally and I are in that particular boat, we still proceed in life expecting that we could very well be able to), they are at the point when they know it's right for them, they know it's what they want.

For me, I had headed in the opposite direction. The direction of 'I don't want to do what I want to do, because sometimes what I want isn't the best thing for me. So if I'm supposed to be a mom I need to be told that's what I should do, but someone who knows best. Otherwise I'd be making a hasty selfish decision (not that having kids is necessarily selfish, but for many people it is; they want to have the appearance of the perfect family, they want to be loved by someone, or they want what society says they should have, instead of seeing it as the biggest sacrifice they could make though I know you do get a lot out of it).

I didn't want to get into parenthood for the wrong reasons and then resent my kid(s) for taking away what I just acquired: a job, time with my husband, the joy of writing, and certain self realizations. (Oh yeah, and sleep, not that I get tonnes of it but I enjoy what little I get).

I basically didn't want to shoot myself in the foot. (Sorry parents if this sounds horrific, I'm just being honest).

Needless to say I was a bit surprised that within the first couple of hours of my retreat God revealed this to me.

How do I know it was God? Because all of the doubts I had before in myself have completely vanished, and I have peace now that I NEVER EVER had while wrestling oer every wandering possibility. I am now entering the thoughts of being a mom kind of like a job, that was given to me by an expert on the topic. You know as well as I do if someone you admire for doing something well tells you they think you'd be great at it your confidence sky rockets.

I know to some degree what to expect, while at the same time I have no idea at all. I know that I won't sleep. I know that I may or may not have what society considers a 'normal' child. I all of a sudden know that I can still work on my degree and be a mom (it won't be easy but people do it). I know that I can work if I want to and be a mom. I know that there will be situations I just don't know the answer to but that's normal. And that I'll screw up often but I'm pretty sure that's what parents are supposed to do (not intentionally).

I know that I probably won't ever have a clean house again, or clean clothes for that matter. I know that I will have days when I don't think I can take any more (I'm starting to think that you have those no matter what though). I know that it'll be the hardest thing I will ever do. I know that I will likely wonder at times if I heard God correctly.

Most of all I will know I didn't make this decision alone. That gives me more peace about this than anything else. Because if I didn't have to make this decision alone, it means the one asking me to do this won't make me do it alone (of course I do remember tat Wally is apart of this too).

It's with this knowledge that I am accepting this realization.

As I am walking through other dreams I have and trying to live them out I am realizing the incredible gift of acceptance. It should not go unappreciated.

Many people never accept the gifts they are given because they don't believe they deserve them, or they don't feel as though they know what to do with them so in turn they run from them. They never accept them.

I was running because I was scared. Scared that I didn't have this particular gift, that is wasn't for me. But it was. It is. And now that I know this I accept it and all that I will learn from it.

Now I need to say that for me I believe motherhood is a gift. For you it may be something else.

It may be singleness giving you freedom as wide as the ocean (this gift is way undersold), it may be a life full of love for a partner that grows in ways unknown by those with other distractions. You may be called to travel the world and serve those in places I've never seen. You may be gifted to learn and teach.

I could go on and on.

Know that as you give them back to God, the desires of your heart will be met and I think, surpassed.

Don't get me wrong, in one way I am still scared senseless to enter this world. I mean I am not into pastels, baby talk, or talking about my 'plug'. Lord willing I can get by all of this without any of it occurring. I know that however I become a mother He will once again meet me where I'm at and give me what I need to do the job the best way I can.

Maybe we can settle on primary colours ... I'm really not a traditionalist, if you hadn't caught on to that yet.

(BTW Even though this realization has come Wally and I are making no efforts at this time to make such things occur. I'm just enjoying no longer stressing about making this decision. That's why I'm writing about it).

Retreatville Day 2/1

I was up bright and early this Day 2 of my ‘retreat’. When I first glanced at my watch I was astounded at the fact that I slept until 6:35am!!! Then I looked at it in the light and realized that it was 5:35am. Guess I need to work on the sleeping in thing.

I did feel rested though and had fallen madly in love with what I now see as my own personal island oasis. I am referring to my bed.

An island is a perfect description for it. It’s the biggest part of the room. I make sure that it holds all of my needs (books, laptop, snacks, movies, pillows and 1400 thread count Egyptian Cotton sheets, and heavenly pillows).

It took me a little while to fall asleep lastnight. Not because I was lonely, dogless or scared because to be honest I wasn’t any of these things.

It was more because I’m used to having two pillows to sleep on that together make the perfect place to rest my head and when apart work for me to lie on my stomach and sandwich my head between them. These pillows were a bit too big to put together but not enough to use apart (though they were delightfully soft).

I must have made some sort of decision at some point because I woke up with both under my head and used a third as a pretend body beside me.

I also found it difficult to know how exactly to sleep in a queen sized bed as Wally and I are used to our double.

I wiggled and moved to and fro. I tried diagonal, then just on one side, then the other. I almost tried even laying across the bed then I thought ‘Girl get yourself under control this isn’t rocket science’. I ended up slightly past the middle on the side Wally is usually on and slept great.

I have to say I can’t believe how relaxed I am. I mean I’m on my own in a strange place, with people coming and going and I don’t really give a rip. I didn’t leave my room all evening yesterday. It was great.

I ended up watching the romantic comedy which reminded me of something in myself I needed to watch (who knew you could get a life lesson out of a romantic comedy?). I spoke to Wally on the phone for 10 minutes and did some reading. And of course I wrote the last post. It was nice.

When I woke up early this morning all rested up I wasn’t sure what to do. No dogs to walk, I was on the clock for breakfast at 7:30am, and I was doing my best to go with however whatever spirit would move me. I decided I would write a letter. So I did. To God.

Honestly this action was inspired more by reading ‘Eat, pray, love’ than an innate spiritual act of love. But if you read the letter I do believe it was a love letter … in some form.

I used to journal to God all of the time but marriage, life, heartache, and confusion pulled me away. I don’t blame those things, ultimately it’s been my decision to neglect the practice but they were my valid reasons as to why I had not done so any longer.

I used to approach God with great reverence and fear. Fear in all sorts of ways. Fear that if I said something wrong or phrased something inadequately He wouldn’t be able to ‘read between the lines’ and get what exactly my heart was saying. After reading a little tidbit out of the fore mentioned book I realized something I think I already knew in my heart, God’s cool.

I mean the cool thing about Him is that unlike people He doesn’t need the perfect wording to ‘get’ what you’re sayin’. He sees your heart, whether you want Him to or not. And even if you aren’t really sayin’ properly what you’re wantin’ to say, He knows what you mean. Know what I mean?

I guess I really just want Him back in my life. Not that He’s ever left. He hasn’t, but I sort of left Him. Not really intentionally and maybe in some ways not at all. But in some ways I’ve shut down parts of my heart to Him which is really no way to live. It’s no way to live with a spouse or a friend, it’s definitely no way to live with the one person who loves me deepest and knows me best.

Not to mention the person that created me to be … me.

And that’s what I really want isn’t it? To be the best me I can be? The best way to serve the one who made me is to let Him in, to let Him show me things, to let Him have His way with me.

At some point in the past several years I stopped trusting God. I stopped trusting that He would give me what I needed and I gave myself what I needed. I think I did that because the life I had disappointed me, it wasn’t a fairy tale, it wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter, it wasn’t easy. The life I had hurt me, broke me, and seemed to make me feel I was a failure.

Therefore God was clearly not making my life better so I took matters into my own hands.

Now to some degree I feel like this is exactly what He wanted me to do. You know, to learn that I have a responsibility to do some things myself. That though life isn’t handed to me on a silver platter I still have the power to go out and buy the platter, if that’s what I want (it maybe just a plastic platter painted silver but you know, it works).

I have learned so much in the past several years about how much we as people are indeed responsible for our own happiness, for our own lives. I have learned there are so many things we do control, no matter what circumstances we fall into.

However, it is at this point I feel God is quietly, patiently awaiting my return from this lesson to take me to my next one perhaps. I have a feeling He’s planning on catching a front row seat for this one.

I decided to do the mirror exercise again this morning, hoping maybe that yesterday’s possible epiphany was misguided. Hoping that I might see something different. Hoping that the lighting may be a wee bit kinder.

I stood tall in front of the bathroom mirror once again. I looked.

The first thing that caught my eye were my eyes.

I have always noticed my eyes. I’m not sure if it is really because they seem all that attractive, I mean they’re ok. I like them and all but, you know, they are just eyes. Made more beautiful with make up and more alive with a smile, but still I’ve mostly only ever seen eyes.

Today as I took another look at my reflection I saw it again.

I saw a mother.

You may wonder what I am seeing or how I am seeing this all of a sudden. I can’t really say I know. Just that in my eyes I recognize a fierceness and passion for some kid (or kids) that I am yet to meet.

I see a woman that is ready to fight for the best for potential little hellions that may enter her life (or angels, I’m preparing myself for a challenge). A woman that is made to learn from the littlest human creatures. A woman that is desperately trying to slough off her ‘calling’ to mother because she knows that on her own she cannot accept this ‘call’.

I am not sure if I can properly portray now how difficult it is for me to accept this job. I have guarded myself so carefully, against all rationale, all logistics, all cushy romantic thoughts about it, pretty much locked myself safely out of place from anything to do with this.

You may wonder why. You may know why.

Other than the obvious ‘I was hurt and grief stricken when it didn’t happen before’, I think it also has a lot to do with my very unromantic thoughts about having a family.

Nothing annoys me more than romantics. I’m talking about all kinds. Those romantic over love, over babies, over buying a house, over travel, over renovating, cooking, going to school, over pretty much anything that in thought appears beautiful but in reality gets very messy and even dirty.

I’m a realist, sometimes to a fault (clearly). I am a preparer. I prepare mentally for challenges. I map out how I can be prepared to handle unexpected aversions. I think of all of the ways something could or may go wrong so that I am able to figure out what to do to fix it if need be.

If I am traveling and I know that the weather’s going to be hot and uncomfortable I prepare my mind to put up with the fact that I’m not going to like it but ‘it’s’ part of the experience, then I move on.

I prepared myself originally to be a very young newly married mother. I wasn’t prepared for the fact that life was going to take a different turn. After that little episode I was no longer interested in this ‘call’ (as I feel for me) to be a mother. If I can’t prepare for it then I’m not sure that I want it.

I know all of you mothers out there will think me clearly insane as there is no possible way of preparing to be a parent. None.

My solution in the past few years has been to ignore what I’ve known in my heart for years in hopes that I was wrong all along.

Give me a minute … (dashes to the mirror again)

... Nevermind. I still see a mom.

*sigh*

Now I sit here and wonder what’s next. I’m certainly not planning on running home to Wally to say ‘Let’s have a baby!!’ because there are still a few things to think about. Adoption is at the root of my heart. That doesn’t happen over night. Of course neither does having a baby.

I guess the first thing I will do is this:

Go from ‘If we have kids’ to ‘When we have kid(s)…’

No more ifs.

I'm ba-ack ... Retreatville Day 1

Yes it's true I made it through the past few days no worse for the wear. In fact a tad more enlightened than before I went. Probably more tired than when I left, but it's all good.

Lightning didn't strike me down but I certainly faced a couple of things I've been avoiding, things that I will likely write even more about after I post what I managed to write while away.

Even today as Wally and I returned from our overnight stay in the ci-te (city, only said all french like) and the Persian/Canadian wedding reception we went to (definitely more on that later!!!), I am continuing to have little 'light bulb moments'.

It's kind of strange, while I was away I did not once pick up a health or fitness book/magazine, I didn't once feel the urge to skim through my new healthy food porn (those are my recipe books by the way - yes I took them, don't judge me I've already got it covered).

However as I'm home now my little moments of understanding are actually regarding my new little fitness fetish and all that stuff. More to come with that as well.

Anyways, just thought I'd check in and let you know I wrote often while I was in Retreatville and I have everything ready to post. I figured I'd stagger my posts though throughout the next couple of days. So that it's kind of like you were there with me.

Remember to scroll down cause you never know how anxious I get and when I may post more than expected. I don't want you to miss one then be like 'Holy Crap - what's she talkin' about now?!'

If you were a pray-er, thank you. Miracles did happen.

Big and little.

With a thankful heart,

Eva:)


Here's my first post revealing the beginning evidence of your prayers:



Retreatville Day 1

Well I made it. I arrived to my getaway destination at 3:30pm on the nose after a quick visit with my aunt on the way.

I met my host right off the hop and took care of the business stuff then got a tour of my temporary home.

The first thing I noticed was the vast amount of stuff that filled the house. Lots of décor and furniture I have only ever seen in magazines. Shawn spoke faster than I could follow and listened a bit less then he spoke.

He was clearly proud of his home and business and had every right to be, all was beautiful.

I was shown all of the guest rooms (even the ones occupied, hmmmm a bit odd), the hot tub, the sheltered out door automatic fire pit thing, the porches, the grand piano (which I may get closer to at some point), the workout room (that I won’t be using as it is temporarily moved to the garage while renovations are happening), and then of course my room.

Once he left me alone I collected all of my things and settled in. The first thing I did was throw my food in the mini fridge then quickly got out the vase I brought to put the roses my in laws bought me for graduation yesterday. Yes, I brought them with me. I figured since I’d be away for three and a half days the flowers would be near death when I arrived home. So I took some … oh what are they called? Those tube things that you fill with water and put on the bottom of the stem, well anyways I did that and brought them all with me so I could still enjoy.

I’m quite sure Shawn thought I was a crazy lady when he spotted me carry in a bunch of roses on my luggage. Oh well, maybe his thoughts are correct.

I set up my flowers and then began taking pictures of my room so I’d remember my spot, you know, in case anything life changing happened.

I believe it was at this point I sat on the big queen sized sleigh bed and wondered what I was to do next.

Hmmmm ...

Nothing to clean. No laundry to catch up on. No ironing to do. No one to call. With a vow not to watch tv that was out of the question. I decided I’d check the internet connection to see if it worked. Not that I would use it or anything.

Well, no dice. There was a connection but I didn’t have the password. I took it as a sign to let it go (and was in no mood to go hunting down Shawn for the answer).

Next, I did what any person in my position would do.

I played a few games of solitaire.

They didn’t go well. At all. So I gave up and moved on to my books, after changing into what would later be my pj’s while I ate my raw veggies. I soon learned that eating cherry tomatoes while reading wasn’t a grand idea. It didn’t turn out well when on the second page I smeared tomato juice all over the paper.

The book I bought was ‘Eat, pray, love’. No doubt you’ve heard of it. I thought it seemed sort of appropriate for the occasion. I wasn’t determined to read it but thought it may be a good possible option. I learned that I think I may be right.

I read for only a little while until I got sleepy. It was only 5:30pm. I thought ‘I’m here to rest, why not have a nap? I’m probably exhausted’. Wally pointed out the other day that I am definitely a huge napper while on vacation. I curled myself under the blankets and closed my eyes.

Then I got hot. Then I realized I wasn’t all that tired. Then I noticed my bladder was beckoning. I got up and used the facilities and decided I was happy that I placed my roses on the bathroom vanity as I had been in there several times already due to the amount of water I was consuming.

While in the bathroom I stood in front of the mirror. For probably 20 minutes. I looked at my face. Then at whatever body parts that stared back at me. Then at my face again.

I did this because Wally told me I should. He said a few days ago that I needed to look at myself in the mirror often and see how beautiful I really am. And to tell myself how great I am. I think in hopes that someday I’ll believe it.

Well I looked in the mirror with other thoughts in mind. It was more so to search myself. To see inside. Maybe to take some inventory. Not an easy task with flesh and bones all in the way.

However I did eventually see something.

What I saw staring back at me was a thirty year old woman who has recently changed a few parts of her life. There was evidence looking back at me. I was proud of that.

At the same time I saw something else though. I saw a few more lines on my fine featured face than I had noticed in a while (one can hope it was the lighting). I saw eyes that were a little tired. I saw hair that was much more me than I had wanted it to be (short and boyish).

There was something else I didn’t want to see too. A girl too scared to face something. Another dream that she’s been too afraid to address. One that she’s tried desperately to run from after life’s dramatic twists and turns.

I saw a mommy.

I saw a mother.

I saw someone’s mom.

The person I saw was hidden a little behind a few other dreams, ones that were more sensible and perhaps more catchable. Perhaps ones that wouldn’t cause so much pain to achieve or even endure. Perhaps ones that couldn’t bring so much joy either.

I’ve been running from this for a while. Running hard.

Until now.

I think I just needed to catch my breath.

Now my chest hurts a little. Maybe from over exertion. Maybe from other things. Damn.

Sometimes looking in the mirror is hard because you see something you don’t want to accept. A challenge you don’t think you can overcome, or a challenge you know you can but have never had the guts to try.

I’m someone’s mom already. I see it in my eyes.

Damn.

Dee told me it’s all about acceptance. But I don’t think this is what he was referring to.