I wanted to be a mother for pretty much as long as I can remember. I was one of those little girls who took dolls very seriously. At eight I had long conversations with my Cabbage Patch doll about the fact that she was adopted. It didn't matter to me, I loved her nonetheless. I guess that seed was planted early, adoption, my dad was adopted after all, as were the Nadeau girls down the street. Adoption always an option. But I was going to have babies. My Barbies were all mothers, most of them working, largely single, but moms. I never doubted it. And after my mom died, when I was nine, it became THE goal. I needed to find a way to replace that unconditional love I had received in the only way I knew how, a mother/child bond.
As a deeply troubled and promiscuous teen I prayed for an "accident" but it never happened (Thank you to my higher power, thank you thank you!!) When I lived in England at 20 I did get pregnant, but I only found out while I was process of having an incredibly painful 12 week miscarriage. I was such a mess at that time, drinking, drugs, partying, having a baby would have been a disaster for me, but it would have been much worse for the poor soul who would have been stuck with me as a 21 year old mother. In later years I came to thank god for not putting us through that, but at the time.... that pain was almost too much. I had already been emotionally checked out but this pushed me over the edge. The next few years were just more drugs and scary ass behaviour that very very easily could have left me dead. I was the walking wounded and I didn't care who knew it. This behaviour lead to dire consequences and me laying in an emergency room, swallowing my first dose of the morning-after pill, begging god that this wouldn't be the time a seed got planted.
For a long time after that motherhood was placed on the back burner. Like the FAR back burner, the back left one, the least favourite burner, everyone agrees! But it was not taken off all together.
In my late 20's and early 30's when my super cool friend, became my super cool boyfriend, that dream came off that lonesome back burner. We had reached that blessed stage of our lives where every other weekend was an engagement party, wedding, or baby shower. We joined the wedding bandwagon in 2006 and immediately pulled the goalie. I wanted a baby STAT. It was everything and it was pretty clear, based on my menstrual issues, that we were going to need help. So we started with the meds and the doctors and the donut making. Sex became a job, and in addition I couldn't manage my emotions or my expectations. I was fucking miserable. My husband didn't seem to be having a great time either, but I wouldn't know because I didn't ask him. I never even really asked him if he wanted kids. It was me, my plans and feelings pretty much all the way.
We started on the adoption plan pretty much at the same time. It was scary and invasive and not exactly how I wanted to make a family but a kid was a kid was a kid. I needed that love, I needed it, was fiending for it. Maybe the social worker smelt it on me, but ultimately we were asked to jump through some hoops I wasn't ready to jump through.
So we stopped. We would be DINKs. We could do that. Right?
I wasn't okay. But I didn't know I wasn't okay, because I turned off. My wonderful husband and I have been in therapy for about a year now and when I asked him recently "where do you think it went wrong" he didn't have to think about the answer. "when you didn't have a baby". And I knew he was right. I was STARVING for unconditional love. Not the normal, magical, fallible human love my husband was trying to give me. I wanted a fantasy. I had wanted it since my own fucked up, scary, childhood made me feel unloved. I never properly grieved that.
Then five years ago a funny, shy, kind, gremlin of a kid was going through a shit time and I made the joke, "Well, I'll be your mom now" and in that joke something wild and beautiful grew. This weird kid, who didn't know who the fuck they could trust... PICKED us. It was a joke but suddenly it wasn't funny anymore, it was.... love. It was like some weird magic bean had finally bloomed and inside was this crazy, perfect little family.
Every single day I worry he will change his mind. That I will scare him away with my inanity and giant love. He has seen my absolute worst. He knows how bad it can be; he had to call 911 in the midst of one of my mental health crisis because he was worried about my suicidality. That he had to go through that is anguishing to me. The fact that he loves me anyway? That is grace.
So now I am a Mom. Did it fix me? You will be surprised to learn... it did not. Being B's mom is possibly the greatest joy and privilege of my life, but it wasn't a magic cure for all my ills. Instead, in some ways it pushed me further into myself. I had someone to disappoint and I didn't feel up to the challenge.
However, I did decide if my son was going to choose me, than I had to do something to feel like I deserved that love. The only thing I can think to do is... get well. I know it sounds like a lame Hallmark movie but the unconditional love I have been so desperate for, has to come from me.
And I am working on that.
Thank you B. Mom love you!
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