Annacyclopedia wrote a post about womanhood vs. motherhood. It has stirred up a lot of things for me. I think it’s due in part to how I was feeling the other day.
I have been asked if I have joined a mommy group and though I have been invited by one actress in my neighbourhood, I have not done so… yet. Mostly because I have been working on finding my own rhythm with the Precious (and no, it’s no accident I use that moniker from Lord of the Rings cause god knows trying to get a child was a little like trying to get the Ring and I’m pretty damn sure I acted like Gollum). This actress friend of mine has her mum living with her (with Alzheimer’s). So she juggles her work, health care workers, a business with her husband and a toddler. And she does yoga. So you see there are lots of things we have in common. So why haven’t I gone over yet?
I’m pretty sure part of my reluctance is that I can’t quite believe I’m a mom yet. I’ve spent so much time in pursuit of motherhood and just as much time getting used to the idea that I may never be a mother. Until the day I was. And even then, I felt like I took somebody else’s child. Yeah, I said it. Remember that crap I said about not feeilng guilt? Well, apparently, guilt has moved in. When I’m with Special K, feeding him, changing him, I feel so full of purpose. And grateful he can’t walk yet so I don’t have to stop blogging so I can watch his every move.
I feel privileged. Having him was never an assumption. I don’t have a RIGHT to him. But I’d like to. I’m kinda attached to the little guy. That’s how I feel.
I went to visit a Buddhist friend of mine the other day. She’s older, wiser, incredibly smart and a true resource of knowledge. She made me coffee and plied me with sweets. She also does energy work and reiki and just adores babies. You just feel at ease in her company, like you can just tell her anything.
She showed me how to connect with his chakra to connect with the energy that reaches out for his mum when’s he’s upset or unsure. Isn’t that what any adoptive mum want to know? That she can be enough for to keep him rooted in his place in the universe. Nice thought. Don’t know if it’s true, but it sounded comforting.
Around the same time as his birth one year ago, one of my closest friends was dying. In fact, the day the court approved the adoption was the same day she died. I guess it’s fitting that he came into my life at that time. Such overwhelming emotions on that day, one year apart. Wow, what a journey.
Within minutes, Special K was oohing and aahing at her and actually fell asleep in her lap. She told me that he was born to fulfill his mission as my son. He had actually chosen me. Me. Now that is a Buddhist concept, that children choose their parents. That can be a very disconcerting thought if you really think about it.
So that’s the heart of it. This whole motherhood thing hasn’t quite landed with me yet. I still feel like I have to justify, to prove, to fill out paperwork, to pass social worker visits or whatever. I still gotta fill out surveys and you know how I feel about paperwork. No one else is making me feel that way but myself. I think it’s an infertility side effect. Cause if I possessed a well behaving uterus, I would have spared myself the paperwork. All that BFN nonsense left me feeling shattered and it took a while to heal. It left me feeling resentful of all the women who were alcoholics, nutcases and drug addicts who trashed their bodies for years and still got pregnant. Amused and then increasingly angry at the intrusions; the doctors, the nurses, the technicians up my hoo-ha, the acupuncture gurus, the strangers that I put on a brave face for. I was a faithful believer that lost her innocence. And then of course, my wonderful fantasy of adoption where I would fill out the paper work and get a baby – unattached to anyone who cared – within, say a month or two. Like my eggs, we looked good on paper, but ended up enduring shrugged shoulders.
I lost joy, I found joy in just breathing in and out. Looking at the sky, the flowers, grateful for surviving depression, loss and grief.
And then a child came into my life and changed my schedule. My plans. My hard won way of being in this world. Ah, yes. It’s not the loss of jet setting around the world that I think about (cause I’ve done lots of that already), it’s more the identity I carved out for myself. Which is harder than you think when you don’t have a steady job/career. Mmmm, looks like mamma wants to keep those hard won bits of her life after all.
A Woman My Age 