With Mothers Day just around the corner, I can't help but think constantly about this thing called Motherhood.
For three long years - and the three years before that, just waiting for the right time to "pull the goalie", as it were- it felt so far away. Sometimes completely unobtainable. I remember in vivid detail the first Mothers Day after a year of "trying" and a few short weeks after hearing medical confirmation of the issues we were facing coupled with the phrase, "It's likely going to be very difficult for you to get pregnant." Jeff had been asked to speak in church on that day. I was so, so angry - why did it seem like a good idea to ask the childless couple to speak on a day dedicated to parenthood? In truth, they had no idea what we were facing or just how raw and painful the topic of motherhood was at that point in time.
When the day came, I sat in the very back pew by myself because I knew it would be a difficult hour. I made it through the first speaker, and just felt disgruntled. I could do disgruntled.
Then it was Jeff's turn. He wrote a beautiful talk, and spoke a lot about the sanctity of motherhood and shared a lot of wonderful stories of the sacrifices his mom made for him. Slowly but steadily, the loneliness and grief and feelings of inadequacy worked their way to the surface. What kind of woman can't give her husband a kid? Isn't that the whole purpose of life? All I could do was keep my head down and try not to cry. I prayed to be able to keep it together.
I couldn't. By the time the third and final speaker stood up, I was an ugly-crying, sobbing wreck and walked outside. It literally could not be contained. Feelings are not something I deal with often - it's not that I don't have them, they are just secondary to the doing part of life, so when I feel something strong enough to the point of crying, there's no stopping and it certainly isn't for lack of want or trying. I was so embarrassed and even angrier - I couldn't get pregnant, and now I was making an absolute fool of myself. In public. AND Jeff had the car keys so I was stuck. I will never forget the sweet acquaintance - who soon became the best friend I have ever had- who took it upon herself to walk over and just let me be angry and sad and didn't try and tell me it would be okay. Because at that moment, it wasn't. As soon as sacrament meeting was over, I walked in to catch Jeff on his way out of the chapel and asked if we could please go home. There are so many worse trials in life than this and I'm completely aware of how melodramatic this sounds, but the best way I can describe how that day felt was agony.
Fast forward three years later and my train of thought is one of extreme gratitude. The beautiful little boy who has finally physically joined our family is a gorgeous, pure slice of heavenly perfection. The weeks following his birth felt sacred. There is nothing sweeter than welcoming a new, pure little spirit to your home - and the personal transformation that inspired is nothing short of amazing and something I will forever be grateful for. There aren't words to describe strongly enough what it means to me, but the closest I can find are these: This is *everything* to me. Wiping food off a dirty, smiling face. Listening to high-pitched squeals and caveman grunts while he figures out how fingers and toes work. Reaching out and catching a little head as he launches himself backwards when he is tired of sitting, completely trusting that *someone* will be there to break his fall. Sweet snuggles, sometimes at odd hours of the night. A little hand, reaching up to twirl my hair while he is nursing. Teaching him how to do the most basic things - sit, roll over, sip on a straw. Watching and cheering on as he achieves each new milestone, simultaneously so proud I could burst and feeling a little bit of heartbreak as he gets bigger and braver.
I'm not a perfect person - so, so far from perfect. But if anything or anyone could inspire me to try my hardest to be that way someday, it is having a little tiny face looking up at me watching, hearing, learning, absorbing, everything that I do.
So, I'm grateful. Thank you, baby Cade, for coming to our family and giving me a piece of myself that I couldn't find any other way.
