“Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world, a mother’s love is not.” ~James Joyce
(Warning: this one’s all about me) I always knew that I would be a mother. I just never had a picture of what it would look like. I had two inklings of what it would feel like: the first was through a relationship with a little girl named Bryanna who sang in the adult choir when I was in the choir at St. Alphonsus Rock Church. Bryanna was only five when she started singing with us; she was adopted. She was apparently an alto like me, although her mom was a soprano, so she sat next to me. I didn’t know her before this. Choir practice was long and about 45 minutes into it she would usually curl up next to me. She’d get a little antsy and I would tickle her back or her arm and she would instantly relax and sit very still. I was sure the love I felt for this little girl, only through sitting with her at choir practice, was as pure as a mother for her own daughter. I would think of her during the week and just miss her little being. I wanted to take her home with me and at the same time was thankful for the family she had. The feeling gave me an excitement for being a mother to a daughter some day (in looking back, now that I AM a mom, it is no wonder I loved this child – she was only 5 and sang like an angel and could sit still in an adult choir practice for an hour and half! I think I might have been tricked into having kids).
The second inkling of what being a mom would feel like was much simpler. I was meditating one day and picturing a future, peaceful and fulfilled life. Dan and I were engaged at the time. My thoughts went to me walking in a park. Then I noticed that in the picture in my mind, I could feel that there was something with me. I actually had to look closer to see what it was (I am not a meditating expert so I am not sure if I’m a total kook or not); I saw that it was a baby in a stroller. I was certain from those feelings, prayers, divine peace that I would be a mom soon and couldn’t wait for that little bundle of grace to arrive. I was never in a rush to have kids and hadn’t put a timeline to it and then it was simply time. Grace was probably born within a year of that day.
So the sum total of my “picture” of what it would be like to be a mom included an extremely calm little girl who I saw once a week and a meditation induced peaceful vision of walking a baby in the park. It is no wonder that I have been a little shocked, utterly shocked, at the reality of being a mom. Tickling someone’s arm does NOT always calm them down and we only just went for our first peaceful walk with kids this past week. When I meditate and pray now, I feel like I have octopus arms trying to keep up with everything.
One of the joys for me in being a mom is creating our life as I now picture it being best for us. I hope to create a peaceful home where our kids feel secure. I hope our love for them is deep in the core of their souls. I hope they grow up to see me as a full person with interests and talents outside of just being their mom, although I also hope they understand that what I care most about is being their mom and that having that balance is really hard with a lot of decisions and trade-offs and that I will end up a little frumped-out and dorky and not as glamorous as my vision of myself before I imagined them.
I am just returning from a work trip and struggle to fit that into my ideal picture. In the ideal picture, I want to be there for good night books and kisses every night, although in reality, I am sometimes asleep while reading to them at night. For now, I imagine striving to be the well rounded mom with outside interests and talents is good for all of us in a way, but I am greedy and don’t like missing a single beautiful spring night at the snow cone stand when the peace in reality matches the peace in my vision of being a mom. These moments can’t be planned and are pure blessings, so I will take them when they come. The rest of the time I will try to laugh at the rest of this stinking dunghill of life.
May 21, 2009 at 7:21 am
JB, the kids and I love all of the things you do outside the family. We know that it’s all connected in the end and we relish the extra attention we get when you return. As for the stinking dunghill, yeah, that’s my bad.