Before I Was Me, I Was You

  Life is confusing.  I love my kids, I wanted my kids and I believe my kids have made my life, but I don’t believe you have to have kids to have a great life.  I just don’t think that this motherhood gig is for everyone, and I think the women who know it’s not for them and then don’t have kids are absolutely, positively, brilliantly smart and foresighted.  And I wish they would be my aunts and my kids’ godmothers forever, even if we are of no relation whatsoever, because they have their whole brains and bodies to themselves and that is completely awesome.

But, if you want kids.... If you really, really want them and it’s not working out, it is heartbreaking.  I have felt that heartbreak.  I have been devastated.  More than once, unfortunately.

One of the most confusing parts of life to me is that some people really want a baby and never get one.  I don’t know why that is.  If I ruled the world, I would give all the people who really want babies, babies.  And I would make sure the people who can’t handle one wouldn’t get one.

But I don’t rule the world.  And life is confusing.  And sometimes there absolutely positively is no upside to heartache.  I do not believe everything happens for a reason.  I think you can find a reason in a lot of painful things, but I think sometimes bad things just happen.  For no other reason than life is confusing.  And sometimes, it’s really hard.  And lots of times, it’s both confusing and really hard.

Here’s a reason that I’ve created from a confusing and hard situation: For me, motherhood is hard.  Really hard some days.  Exhausting.  Tiring.  Lovely, too, of course.  But on those really hard, exhausting, tiring days, I can remember back to what it felt like when I had to wonder if I ever was going to get this chance to mother.  Now, in the midst of my child yelling at me because I let her draw with chalk and now she has chalk on her hands (you know, because that is MY fault), I can go back to that dark place and come up with laughter when I otherwise might want to yell.  I still yell sometimes, unfortunately.  It’s the way it goes.  But I have a place inside of myself that was carved out by a soul whose voice I never got to hear, but who has offered me patience and reminded me that this was the dream for which I hoped.  I found a perspective that I don’t think I would have ever had otherwise.

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Before I Was Me, I Was You

Before I was me, I was you.

Before I was bothered by my kids, I begged for them.

Before I was holding my baby who is squirming away as we try to talk, I felt heartbeats fade from my body as tears dripped from my eyes.

They are here now. I am me now. With bodies that came out of my own crawling all over me. With dreams that I wished for coming true.

On the days when I don’t know how I’m going to make it until bedtime, I remember you. I remember me.

I remember when the life I have today was just a dream.

I touch them. I hold them. I hear them. I thank all good things for them. But I always, always remember us.