Universal mother

"...The thing I have always wanted to say I have no right to and may be so unwanted and I never would wish that. And my greatest fear has always been that my words could possibly cause you further pain which I would never want.

But I am saying it today to you. Forgive me if this is upsetting, please please.

I have always seen you as a mother, to Thomas yes, but in my soul I have always felt you must become a mother to another child, no matter how, no matter from your body or not, from birth or not it has been so strong I have written friends to speak about you and ask their advice. I feel it achingly in my core that your life, that your joy and your path is this, is to find a way to make it happen for you. Through foster or adopt or any other means. And I know that is so easier said than done, I know what you have said about all of it. I do I truly do. I just want you to know I dream about this, it haunts me and I have never understood why it is so, with you, it has never done so with someone else from our land of IF."

I think about this sort of thing a lot. Even still.

I imagine the life I nearly had every time I see a mother lean in to her child to listen to a secret he wants to share, or watch her touch her child with that absent-minded mother-love that makes her need to stroke her daughter's hair without even realizing she's doing it. I feel the emptiness around me so acutely in those fleeting moments when I see so clearly what I'm missing. And I panic in those moments too, knowing that I won't have that kind of connection with anyone. Ever.

But I also believe that childlessness is the road some people walk - some by choice, some because the choice was made for them.

I'm not walking it to be noble or to take the bullet for someone else. I'm walking it because I have to - because this is where life has lead me and I can't turn around and go back to a different starting point. Not now. Not after everything. I tried to choose a different path, but I kept ending up back on this one - more bloodied and broken each time - and there finally came a moment when I decided to stop fighting against it and accept that this is what was meant to be.

I regret that I was ever put in a position where I had to choose. But I don't regret the choice I made. I have to trust that it was the right one for me and for My Beloved.

I admit that it haunts me too. It probably always will. But I do believe that for us this is how it is supposed to be.

So I've just decided that I'll be a mother in other ways to other people until I'm with my own children again. A universal mother, if you will. 

I'll crochet for my friends' babies, I'll listen when someone needs to talk, I'll keep secrets, I'll send cookies to work with My Beloved so he can share them with his co-workers, I'll make homemade birthday cakes, I'll make spaghetti sauce from scratch, I'll dry tears, I'll soothe hurts, I'll offer advice,  I'll make things better when I can. And I will always keep tissues, gum, hand sanitizer, and aspirin in my purse.

I can still be a mother in the little ways that mean so much. It's not the same, I know that. But walking this road doesn't mean that I can't still use the mothering instincts that I was born with, or pass the kindness and love that I was shown by my own mother on to others.

Making that choice is easy.

Bleu, thank you so much for your comment. I know it came from a place of love and respect, and so no,  it didn't hurt me. In fact, I've been thinking a lot about this whole "universal mother" thing in the last few months, and your words helped. Truly.

Grief in 30

What I know about grief:

1. When it moves in, it brings every piece of baggage it can along with it.
2. It steals your sleep, your concentration, your confidence, your energy, and your peace.
3. It feels endless.
4. It gets better.
5. It gets worse.
6. It's totally unpredictable.
7. It makes you feel desperate.
8. It makes you feel incomplete.
9. It makes you feel scattered, scared, and lonely.
10. It thrives on the chaos it creates.
11. It changes your priorities.
12. It alters your perception.
13. It lies in wait.
14. It attacks without warning.
15. It bleeds you dry.
16. It makes you more compassionate.
17. It makes you more paranoid.
18. It makes you need friends, crave comfort, and beg for mercy.
19. It is ruthless, relentless, and insatiable.
20. It makes you vulnerable.
21. It makes you weep.
22. It makes you scream.
23. It chokes off your words.
24. It strangles your joy.
25. It claws at your heart.
26. It rakes at your mind.
27. It thunders in your ears.
28. It blinds your eyes.
29. It cripples, maims, and scars for life.
30. It makes you wonder if the people you're missing would even recognize the person you are now.

And each day you survive living with it, you win the tiniest little piece of yourself back.