I know that one day I will be a mom. I’ve been told time and time again what a good mother I will be or even that I already am a mother to so many (never mind the fact that there are no children in my home).
My greatest quandary is not that of motherhood itself. I understand the well meant comments of others; the healing that they are meant to bring, the solace that is offered. However, one fact remains to be seen. What will my impending motherhood look like?
Will it be a motherhood first of the heart, or will it be born of my body and its functions? Is that motherhood something that could be taken away because of extenuating circumstances? Will I be understood as a mother of children who have not been made mine indefinitely? While curious, these concerns are minimal in my mind. The doubt that plagues me the most? Will I be accepted as a mother if that motherhood is not perceived as a permanent position.
My expectancy is different. It does not follow the normal patterns that are traditionally seen. I cannot complain of aches and pains, lack of sleep or changing bodily functions. My moods are not attributed to escalating hormones nor do I look like a mother to be.
But I am.
I do not have the luxury of forty weeks to prepare for my child; knowing that in my world, he or she is only a phone call away. In an instant my carefully crafted world will be changed. I do not have hours of labor preparing me for impending motherhood. I only have the amount of time determined and given by a legislating body.
I spend my days in anticipation of the arrival of the newest member my readymade family. Every day I wait, I wonder. Will this be the day? Will my babies come home to me soon? Will we have a boy or a girl? What will they look like? Are they even born yet? What kind of travesty has brought them to my home?
No, the motherhood I embark on is vastly different from what most experience, yet it is still valid. It is a journey in and of itself, full of ups and downs, moments of waiting and expectation, fear and concern. The anticipation, the joy and even the sorrow are still present, albeit different.
I may not have had to work for motherhood physically, but the emotional expense is great. The sacrifices may not have changed my physical body, but they have changed my inner person. The investment will have been primarily of heart and soul but it is there the same. The love I bear for my children will be great, my desire to see them grow into profitable humans the same as any other mother.
So one day, when my journey is complete, I will stand alongside many others head held high knowing that I am a mother. No longer will I stand concerned about what others think of me or how I became a mom. I will join countless others who have struggled before me, giving much for their children. I will be a mother who deserves to be called such, as the sacrifices have been great. It is in that moment that I will proudly say that I am a mother.
*** Obviously this was written before we became foster parents. However, I believe that many of the emotions and fears are still valid, often part of my daily experience. My posting of this writing is actually predicated by an experience from today; I was referred to as my child’s foster mom (no problems there-it’s certainly the truth) in a tone that discounted the impact that I have on this child’s life as a mother. The reminder of my lack of parenthood stung, jolting me back to a reality that I had almost forgotten in the comfort of what our life has become.
Questions of when I will officially be a mom still arise frequently, both voiced by others and quietly within myself. Even though we are foster parents, it feels as if we are no closer to the finish line of being parents than we were a year ago. So still we wait. Officially I am a misfit mom.
