Something in the water: Motherhood

With Mother’s Day approaching, multiple pregnant friends (some with multiples), and too many years of a ticking biological clock, I’m thinking about motherhood. I’ve often thought of myself as a childless mother (you remember Monica from Friends?). I am intoxicated by the calm of a baby sleeping on me; I truly think it is a glimpse into what heaven might feel like (provided it exists).

I’ve written about children and parenthood – though it was a less than favorable post about not entering into a long-term stint at parenthood without understanding (as best as possible) what one is getting into. It’s a serious job and it never ends; I still believe that. It’s been pointed out several times since that post though that if parenthood were to happen for me, I likely wouldn’t be alone in it. I certainly wouldn’t want to be; it’s far too difficult to do as a single-parent if one can help it – especially in those early super sleepless years.

After watching Alora and until just recently, I found a dimmer switch for my biological clock. Recently, the dimmer switch became faulty and the clock surprised me in its ticking. It seems that now it started ticking again, it wants to catch up for lost time. It is painful at times. I remember how much I yearn for the joy (while still recognizing the drawbacks) of parenthood in its biological sense. I’m blaming this resurgence of ticking on what is in the water that seems to be getting all of my friends knocked-up.

Sometimes I imagine what it might feel like, physically and emotionally, to know that I had a life inside of me that I was nurturing – not to mention the joy of knowing said life was part me and part (hopefully) someone I was absolutely crazy in love with. I’m sure I might curse that parasite from time to time for kicking my organs and bones and for thinking my bladder was its personal trampoline, yet I’d like to think that I’d be so thrilled to be blessed enough to have a chance at something so special that I’d spend way more time excited and thankful. I am reminded of my mom’s stories about eating her cereal from atop her belly; I yearn for that ability and my joyful giggle when the bowl trembles.

I was talking with a friend of mine about motherhood and pregnancy and we both seem to agree that it is one time in our lives when as givers we can give to ourselves and have it still be about someone else. (I have learned that I need to give to myself. I’m not perfect at it, but I’m getting better.) I think there is something to that theory. But there is no denying (for me) that there is something deep and internal, primal perhaps, that keeps this clock ticking. I don’t think that all women (or all men) possess it, but when we do, it is palpable. I can’t name it specifically and I can’t articulate it clearly, but I can feel it nudging my heart like a dog that wants you to scratch behind its ears.

It’s possible that by the time such a decision might be “doable” (you know, after a PhD and/or other planetary alignment) that I will feel differently (again) or life might have other plans for me. In the meantime, I look forward to time with my little friends (including this afternoon).  I’m lucky enough to have several little friends and I cherish them dearly. They draw me pictures, remind me about the importance of an imagination, and their little hands and faces and hugs remind me of what might just be the purpose in life – sharing uninhibited joy and love with those around you.

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