A Mother

It’s easy to recall a time and place when I was not a mother. I spent over 30 years NOT being a mother. My own mom would tell you (if you asked) that she’s frankly surprised I ever got around to wanting children. “Too independent”, she may say. At that, I cannot deny. A mother knows…she saw it my whole life. She saw me turn to rely on myself through the loss of friendships, boyfriends, and even a marriage. She saw me strive to achieve personal goals that were all mine. I remember that young woman who felt a strong pull to be close to others, at the same time fearing that she would ultimately be on her own...so should prepare for it. Where did that come from? I have some notions but that type of disclosure is not for this venue.

Despite the independence, I did open my life to a family who is now mine. Dan, Emily, and Dylan became mine on December 30^th, 2007. My life (and my independence) changed that day. I was incorporated into lives of children that were not part of me by blood…but by love. My world flipped at that point. I was no longer a child. A 31-year-old child. I was a parent. Not yet the mother I am today, but a mother nonetheless. Independence was no longer an option. Adorable, funny, intelligent children depended on me to be someone I had no idea how to be. Sure, I knew what a mother does. But I didn’t know how a mother feels. I didn’t know how to define myself as a mother. Having kids that are kinda yours and totally someone else’s muddles up your feelings quite a bit. Looking back, I struggled with this more than I let on…maybe even more than I realized myself.

While I’m still working on my own identity as mom, I feel I have benefited from those years of being just me. I put time and energy into learning about myself and getting comfortable with me. Happy with me. This gave me the foundation I needed to choose to have a child not to fulfill some selfish need for someone to love and depend on me, but rather to put my life and energy into the fulfillment of someone else. All of a sudden, it made sense. But it wasn’t until I saw who I was to my son that I could truly see who I was to all my children.  It was there before. I just didn’t see it, because I didn’t know. And I didn’t know because I couldn’t know. Something happened to me when I saw my son for the first time that redefined me as a person that I had never been before. I have put a lot of energy into figuring out the “new me” and wonder sometimes if I’m doing a good job. My mother would tell me not to worry about it, I’m doing fine, and that she’s proud of me. Because that’s what I need to hear…so that what she needs to say. Yeah, I get it now. 

Here’s to that redefining moment that happened two years ago tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Cole.