I grew up freakishly Baptist. Not Southern Baptist, but the Oregon kind so I didn’t get the benefit of animated choirs and a little flavor with my hellfire and brimstone. But I did get overdosed on a list of rules that I should follow so I didn’t go to hell, and that was a real treat. I asked Jesus into my heart when I was thirteen, baptized in the shallows of a river that has run through my hometown for hundreds of years. With the best of intentions, I tried to follow the edict of my Christian faith as closely as possible because I was terrified not to. Growing up in church wasn’t all bad, though. When I wasn’t attending the sermon that mostly adults went to, I found a way to dodge Sunday school by working in the nursery with the littles. I loved everything about it. Babies and toddlers are so funny, and their constant surprise and joy over everything around them just doesn’t get old.
My Mom and I spent many a Sunday working in the nursery together and I’m sure she enjoyed watching me interact with the kids as much as she liked being around them. She’s always had a very quiet and gentle way with them. My Dad is a bird of a different feather, but gentle, quiet, and kind all the same. He lights up like a Christmas tree when he holds a baby, and loves to show kiddos how to drive his riding lawn mower and other simple but entertaining things like that. They would have been world class grandparents. And truthfully, I always expected I would get to give them that gift. It almost felt like it was their right and even from a young age, I pictured family holidays expanded beyond my generation into the one I would someday bring forth to prosper. You know, the American Dream. But it never occurred to me that the life I was raised to expect was not a given. From a toddler growing up with baby dolls that I learned to mother to a middle schooler making lists of first and middle names for my future children, I never in a million years dreamed that I would end up without any of it to call my own.
The next chapter of my life was a long, wasted space that was full of stubbornness and delusion that kept me in the wrong place for far too long. I could blame other people, and there is some validity to doing that but what it all boils down to is that at 16 I got in a relationship that was never the right fit. I got stuck and wasted all of the fertile, important years I could never get back. I was told that maybe someday I'd get to be a Mom. Lies kept me in place, especially when it came to the topic of potential future children. It was never true, but I chose to believe it, because the truth was too hard to accept. I became bristly when people asked me when I'd have kids, saying I didn't owe anyone a child, I'd have one if or when I was ready. What I never said was that my heart ached every time they asked because the only thing I wanted was to have a child and I was powerless in the decision. After 17 very difficult years I finally chose to leave for my own sanity.
I had no idea how to start over, or who I really was on my own as a 30 something year-old woman, but the one thing I knew with absolute certainty, the second I agreed to that divorce- I had to be a Mom. It was the only thing that mattered. What I am so grateful that I didn’t know in the moments after I finally walked away, was that it was too late for me. But it was the drive and the hope of still somehow becoming somebody’s mother that allowed me to start from scratch and create a whole new human being: me.
If you are currently or recently have been single in this second decade of the 2000’s, Bless Your Heart. What a disappointing and shallow world that has become! The very short amount of time I spent there isn’t worth mentioning much other than to say as a mid 30’s divorcee who had not been single since they got their driver's license, I wasn’t real good at it and for a short time there, I surrendered to the fact that maybe I was meant to be a single parent instead. In my head, that seemed a more realistic option than starting over in the current dating climate. I researched property that I could build a small house on and looked into adoption, so I’d have a baby to raise there with me, to finally complete my life’s mission. I soon realized though that what I truly wanted was my own flesh and blood, someone to carry on my family legacy. Someone who I made, someone who was mine. Someone who called me, and only me, Mama. So, I researched sperm banks and made loose plans to begin the process of seeking a donor to start my family.
Now, I realize it was desperation that drove me to all this. But it was also fear, of truly being alone in this world and after all I had given up, not becoming who I was meant to be as a mother. I’d already wasted so much time that I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. The clock was ticking...
And then without warning, out of the blue, over the flames of a January bonfire, I met my soulmate and his little girl who would someday become my stepdaughter. And everything, I mean absolutely everything in my world changed forever.
I think we surprised each other by just existing in the same space that night we met, having one of those, what the heck is this kind of moments because there was no denying the recognition that somehow, our lives had led us there and we would be someone to each other. It's been damn near four years since that night and I still have the biggest crush on this man, it’s unreal. Or at least at one time it would have felt that way. But he is very real and what we have built is beautiful and has been hard fought.
That was a long segway to get to why I really wanted to write this thing. It’s not like my story is so unique you’ve never heard one like it. I’m sure there are lots of people like me that made poor choices, got stuck, and had to start again. For those that haven’t given themselves permission to take that last step, I understand. It’s not easy and it’s very complicated and there are a million and one reasons why staying is easier than leaving. But if you’re looking for a sign to do it, this is it. Go, because on the other side is freedom and peace you can’t imagine. You may not be able to even comprehend a life beyond where you are now, but sometimes we choose wrong and if you need out, it’s okay to leave. The you on the other side will be so grateful you did, I can promise you that. God will not punish you for getting divorced or leaving. You will not fail just because you are suddenly alone. You will find a way. Your village will find you and help you heal. You will be okay.
But those on this path I'm already on know that it doesn’t end when you start over, even if you fall in love and rebuild a beautiful and happy life. For those of us that were shaped by the expectation and hope of this life being filled with the light of our children, it is a process of grieving to accept that they will never exist. When you come to that concrete realization, you will absolutely know. If you don’t know, my sage advice would be to not make any decisions that could impact your ability to have kids in the future. One day, if you are not meant to be a Mom, it will just be a fact you accept and it may not be okay, but it will be true in your soul. My moment came almost three years ago, and my pain has turned into acceptance.
My hubby (that’s how I refer to him, we aren’t married but we share a life together) and I had been together a little over a year when my new birth control implant began making me a hot mess on the regular. Birth control had never agreed with me, but this was over the top and it was clear that thing needed to get out of me.
I took a while thinking about what my next step should be because I knew that whatever decision I made was going to be pretty permanent and I wanted it to be the right one. My age was starting to feel like a real liability when it came to planning a family of our own. It complicated our circumstances which had led us to live with family and pray the next chapter would begin sooner than later. We were blessed to have that family that loved and supported us and never made us feel like a burden, but adding a baby to that situation didn't seem practical, or the right choice. Again, that clocked ticked away in my head as my mid 30's got closer and my dream seemed to be melting away. It wouldn't have mattered who I found after the wasted chapter, it would have always been too late. I was just so grateful that it was him I got to do life with, and that we had each other because even if the future looked like what we already had, without adding a child of our own, it still felt like love and sunshine.
I got to see my stepdaughter every other weekend when she came to visit her Dad. I loved her, and was so grateful for her. She was almost thirteen and had somehow changed every single time we saw her. Never having a kid in my life that wasn’t a niece or nephew, I was constantly shocked by how much you can love someone that isn’t even yours. My heart swelled when she did something that made her Dad proud, and I laughed all the time because of her having a great sense of wit and hilarious dark humor. Just like her Dad, she was perfect to me. As I thought about this huge decision I was finally ready to make, I also thought about that relationship and how slowly we were becoming something like a family.
We were so blessed to have a middle schooler to love already. A 13-year age gap was a lot to ask of a set of siblings, as well as us as potential parents. For the first time, I thought about what our future would look like in the next five years as hubby's daughter would grow into her teen years. I wasn't completely sure how that would look, but adding a newborn sounded like a lot. She is already an amazing sister to her one sibling, and part of me wanted to give her that in our family as well. But I thought of what our life as empty nesters may look like once she had built her own life and had a firm foundation of her own to stand upon. That was less than a decade in the future, which would mean that one of two things would be true. As my stepdaughter was building her own life, we would either be doing the same as just the two of us or starting over with an elementary school aged little kid. We could love on and watch my stepdaughter grow into her own person, putting all our energy into this last leg of her childhood, and then dedicate our future to growing together as a couple. Or we could start from scratch and delay the adventures of empty nesters by another fifteen years. It was a lot to consider and mull over. Looking back, I sincerely believe that the considerations above would have been the same if I didn't have a stepchild in my life. Weighing the lifestyle differences between being early empty nesters and choosing to be older parents wasn't something that was easy because both had huge benefits and equal "drawbacks".
I forced myself to also consider the reality of a pregnancy at my age and with the weird shit that came along with my body. I never wanted to admit that carrying a baby may not be even an option, because a surgery that split my entire abdominal cavity when I was a year old had created scar tissue that is so dense, doctors weren’t sure it could stretch enough to accommodate a baby. It was a real concern that was compounded by little details like having a very tipped uterus that may also complicate things. No one’s body is perfect and mine is probably just as tweaked as anyone else’s. If I wanted it badly enough, I could have made it happen or at least give it a try. It just was the first time in my life that pregnancy was actually a possibility rather than a hypothetical since hubby said it was truly my choice if I wanted to try to have a baby. I was shocked by how many things I had to factor in to make the best choice for our family and any babies I may carry.
I took my time with it, and ultimately decided a baby wasn’t in the cards. But this life we were working towards, the stepfamily we were building already, that was written in our stories long before we met. Sometimes destiny finds us, and despite our greatest efforts, it doesn’t always look the way we expect. And that was exactly what I was learning to embrace.
One night when we went to bed, I told my hubby that I had decided to get my tubes tied. I’m embarrassed to admit just how much emotion and crying went into this phase of things, especially since I was completely confident of the decision I had made. But still, I was going through it. It was intense, but I tried real hard to keep it under wraps. At night I waited for hubby to fall asleep and privately grieved my dream that had died. I had killed it but so had life. My babies that I was so sure would be a part of me were never meant to be and that was a hard pill to swallow. I grieved the grandbabies I wouldn’t give my parents who I always felt deserved them. I let go of the dreams I had for these little people that would carry around a piece of my heart, long after I was gone. I cried for the generations that would never come to carry on my family traditions and stories. I let it all go, and when the day came that I laid on the gurney to the operating room, my heart was emptied of the loss and I was at peace. I was so ready to have the surgery I had chosen myself so that I could grow out of what I thought was meant for me and thrive with the people that found me exactly where God had planted them.
Nothing had worked out the way I had planned it, and that’s exactly how it was meant to happen. I often think about how sometimes it seems like God protects us from ourselves because He sees and knows things that we aren't meant to. I wonder if something catastrophic was written into my story, had I taken the route of pregnancy and childbirth. Everything in me that lived and breathed wanted to be a mother, and yet everything in life I have experienced pushed me in the opposite direction to make sure that was impossible. Although I'll never know this side of Heaven if I was on to something there, I just wonder if there wasn't a bigger reason behind this outcome I was meant to have, despite what I always had wanted.
It's really important to acknowledge, this is just my story. There are so many amazing women out there that have met their person and done everything “right”, completed the treatments, spent the money, time, or endless hope and still have not been able to have a baby. There are so many still waiting to see what will happen, one way or the other. Sometimes it's not biological, sometimes it's circumstantial like my experience and that can be just as difficult to process because it doesn't make the end result or unanswered questions any easier. My heart is with you, ladies. Sincerely. I understand the longing you have and the dreams you hold and there is nothing that really prepares you for the delays or the ultimate question of what will be. There’s just not an easy answer. It’s not fair- of everyone out there you deserve to be a Mom. And it's not your fault that your plans feel perpetually on pause. That in between is so painful, but your perseverance matters. I hope your dreams come true, and you get the family you have prayed so diligently for.
Just wanted to throw that out there because I struggled with some really pointed thoughts of my own when I was in the thick of it, like Why are there women that don’t want their babies that get to have them? Why do people like that get to have several kids, instead of me? There’s no reason. There is no justice in it, it's just life and that fact alone is one of the most difficult to accept when you are desperate to have children and for any number of reasons, you cannot or haven't yet.
The time following my surgery was surprisingly healing for me. There was a freedom in the decision I had made because I no longer had to waffle or wonder. Finally, I had an answer and it was one that I had control over. I got to decide this time. And... I would never be a Mom. Suddenly, my priorities shifted as the most prominent and looming door in my world was closed indefinitely. I was free, and I never would have expected that to be okay in my own heart.
As time ticked on, the life that hubby and I were working so hard for started to take shape. Before long, we had enough for a down payment on a house and we were truly lucky to stumble upon one we could afford and was located close enough to my stepdaughter’s school that she could walk there. It was just a cottage, but it was ours and it was the beginning of a whole new chapter for us all.
After we moved in, my stepdaughter chose to live with us most of the time. There is more complexity and nuance to having a blended family than we really realized until that new era for us. As a childless woman in this new world, I also was having to figure out my place and purpose since that was a new identity I needed to define. For so long I was someday going to be a mother, and I molded my heart around that. Once I accepted that was no longer who I am, I took a long hard look at the things that make me an individual and to this day I'm honing those details. It's like I'm getting to know a whole new person while also creating her.
Any woman who is also a childless stepmom knows there are some very heavy and tough days along with the good. It can be hard to navigate, especially in the beginning, but think of what it must be like for that kiddo! Two households, two families, two of everything that they probably always hoped would only have to be one. It’s so, so complicated. But it’s also so simple. You just love them and do the best you can to be there. You get to step up and parent this amazing little person, but you have to find a way to accept that you are not their real parent, this is not your child. But if you're really lucky, they will still let you in and give you a seat at the table. There are unavoidably big feelings on both sides of the fence as you learn to help raise someone else’s child, especially if you never raised your own and always wanted to. No matter how respectful you are of the parent that isn’t there, or that they are of you, that element will always be hard for everyone to some degree. Because blended families are hard, and there’s no way of getting around it.
I am so incredibly lucky because my stepdaughter has chosen to let me be her stepmom. She didn’t have to do that, but with time she chose that title for me, even though her Dad and I aren’t married. We are close and I love getting to have a role in her growing up. Especially as someone who always wanted my own kids, I have to toe the stepmom line so carefully because it’s easy to go all in on something I feel I have a right to guide her on and then end up hurting my own feelings when I overreach. It’s not easy, and it's not natural although all of it is worth it. What I can say is that on the hardest days we’ve had together and brightest and most fun filled ones, it has been worth every single step and misstep to create this stepfamily that we have.
I have to honor what an amazing man my hubby is for trusting me to experience this part of our life together. The confidence and respect it takes to let someone help raise your child is something that I will never take for granted. No one has a clue what they’re signing up for when they become a stepparent, although most of us think we do. That goes for the heart bursting incredible surprises just as much as the microheartbreaks that tend to happen along the way. I’m fortunate that in our blended family, we make it work. This kiddo is almost grown, and I’ve been honored to witness the last four years of that journey with her Dad and know that the last few will go by way faster than any of us are ready for.
It doesn’t make me sad anymore when people ask if I have or want my own kids. I have found peace in where life has led me and so much happiness in the family that hubby, my stepdaughter, and I have built together. It's not what I ever expected but it's better than I ever could have known it would be, too. I no longer feel like a failure because I have learned to own that I'm childless without being ashamed of it. I do not let it make me feel less than, not anymore. But in my 20’s when I felt like I should be creating the next generation, every one of those questions dug into me like a knife.
For those of us that will always receive some iteration of that dreaded question “Do you have any kids of your own?” Just know that it’s okay to say no and leave it at that, that's what I finally started to do and people follow my lead in letting the conversation end there. And when they leave and your mind reels like mine still sometimes does, just remember that you have purpose and value. You and I exist exactly as we are for a reason. Being childless does not make us a spinster, or a cat lady. It does not make us pathetic, or any of the negative things we’ve told ourselves time and again. Hear me loud here: Being childless does not make you or I less of a woman. It’s a tough sea to forge when we’re conditioned to believe our worth is tethered to our ability to have children. We are designed to reproduce, like every species. But our inability or choice not to do so doesn’t reduce our value. It doesn’t cheapen who we are. But it does force us to walk a different path than most. If that’s you, just know you aren’t doing it alone. Not by a long shot! I'm with you.
In my journey to becoming childless, it’s taken many, many mistakes to deliver me to where I am today. I cannot change them and I wouldn’t if I could because had one thing in this life been different, I wouldn’t be sitting next to hubby in our comfies on a Sunday afternoon. My stepdaughter wouldn’t be just getting off work from her first job and going to see the first boyfriend she has that we really like. Had one thing been different, I wouldn’t be able to share my story with you, because it wouldn’t exist. I stand where I am today because despite my greatest efforts, I am nobody’s mama, and that’s completely okay with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment